Threads of Time
by Geeklove4eva
Summary: WiP Two years ago, Sara disappeared... now it's up to Grissom and the team to stitch together what exactly happened to her, while catching Sara up on the life she was forced to leave behind...
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Threads of Time By Gabby Castillo

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Author's note: I'm kinda stuck on "Stuck" right now. I sat down to right a chapter, but this is what came out instead. I guess we can consider it my next WiP, I'm almost done with "Stuck" anyway! So, please, enjoy this, it really has some potential!

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Disclaimer: CSI does not belong to me. My therapist says I have to learn to deal with it… lol!

……….

"I love you, Griss."

"I love you too."

Grissom stole one last kiss from Sara as she walked out the door, heading to a seminar in Denver that she wouldn't come back from…

……….

Two years today. Two long years today.

Grissom sat up in large bed, and stared around the room, hoping for any sign that today everything would be different. He looked for signs that Sara had returned, maybe never even left. A suitcase, her brush, the Copy of Forensic Monthly that she had taken with her. The outfit she had worn that day. But all of it was still missing.

And he was still missing her.

Just like all the other days in the past two years, Grissom laid his head back onto his pillow, and counted the reasons not to get up, like counting sheep to go back to bed. Except for each of his "sheep" had a gun, and a bullet in the barrel, and a trigger that refused to be pulled. Grissom closed his eyes. Two years may have gone by, but he refused to believe that she was dead. Sara would have put up a fight, found a way to stay alive.

Grissom pulled himself out of bed, and headed for the bathroom. Two years was a long time, and every second it got longer and longer.

……….

**__**

Two years and one week earlier…

"It's a seminar on trace evidence and lab analysis. I've been asked to be a speaker."

Grissom leaned over Sara and read the pamphlet she held in her hands. He skimmed over it's surface and frowned.

"Four days long? That's… torture."

Sara set the pamphlet down and turned around, raising a skeptical eyebrow, "Torture?"

"Yeah, you know… four days without you in my arms. Torture."

Sara smiled and softly pressed her lips to his. After a few seconds she smiled, and broke the kiss, "Look at the bright side…it's only four days. That's not forever."

"Yeah, but I'll miss you," whispered Grissom.

"Oh, yeah?" Sara took his hand, and slowly led him down the hallway, towards the bedroom, as she whispered seductively, "Then I think you should show me just how much you'll miss me."

……….

Grissom wrapped his arms tighter around her, and kissed her check. Sara sighed happily and snuggled closer to him.

"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.

Grissom ran a hand through Sara's hair, and sighed, "You."

Sara laughed, "Me?"

"You are what occupies my thoughts, my dreams, my very soul and every part of me."

"Who says that?"

"Gil Grissom."

Sara turned around in his arms and planted a kiss on his lips, softly caressing his cheek as she pulled away.

"This may sound kind of selfish… but I wish you weren't going to Denver," he said.

Sara frowned, "Why?"

"You ever get the feeling that something bad is going to happen, but you can't quite figure out what?" Grissom paused to kiss her forehead, then continued, "I don't know… if you think about it… this… us… just happened fairly recently. I'm so scared that if you go now, I'll wake up from this beautiful dream, and things will go back to the way they were before…"

"Lonely," mumbled Sara.

"Miserable."

Sara laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat against her ear. She closed her eyes as she focused on the rhythm coming through, the feel of the slight thump against her skin. She kissed his bare chest, then looked into his eyes.

"We are as real as you're heart beat. We're both alive, and will probably both be around for a very long time. I love you, Grissom, with every fiber in my being… and I can assure you, as much as it feels like it sometimes… this is not a dream."

"I love you so much, Sara."

"Hold me, Griss… and don't let me go"

"Never, Sara. Never."

……….

**__**

Present…

Grissom leaned against the warm spray of water coming from the showerhead. He wiped the last remaining soap from his hair, and stayed still to let the hard spray brush against his skin.

Sometimes Grissom looked back on that conversation and wondered if it hadn't been a dream. If his mind hadn't come up with it after Sara turned in her resignation and left the lab. But he knew for sure that Sara left for Denver… it was the coming back that had never happened.

'I let you go…' he thought.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he told himself there was nothing he could have done. Las Vegas and Denver were two very big cities that were very far apart, and even if he could have gotten to Denver as he received the call, he was almost positive things wouldn't have looked much better…

……….

**__**

Two years ago…

"How'd it go?"

"Wonderful! It was amazing!" the excitement was thick in Sara's voice.

"Yeah? Tell me all about it?" Said Grissom as he signed his name to another file.

Over the phone, Sara sighed, "I miss you."

"Well, I was talking about the seminar, but I miss you too."

Laughing, Sara replied, "Oh, you know… lots of questions, but I had all the answers. I think I had the complete attention of all the males in the room…"

"College students. I gave a lecture once, and there was this college girl sitting in the front row, couldn't take her eyes off me. I swear, she fell for me then and there."

Sara huffed over the line as Grissom laughed, "I'm sure she did Grissom."

There was a muffled knock in the background, and Grissom chuckled, "Room service?"

"Hold on one sec," the phone went quiet as Sara held it against her shoulder and answered the door.

Grissom could hear Sara give a polite hello, but the next noise scared the living hell out of him.

The phone dropping to the floor, and Sara's scream.

"Sara? Sara!"

He could hear a male, and a loud thump, "Shut up, bitch! I'll kill you, I swear!"

Grissom heard the distinct sound of a slap, followed by another loud thump.

"Grissom!"

"Sara, oh God!"

Grissom could hear the phone being picked up off the ground, then heard a stranger laugh, "Gil Grissom? I've heard so much about you. Too bad you won't hear much about me… you'll never see her again. And be sure of it, you are going to go through the rest of you're life in hell, not knowing if she's dead or alive. So, consider her dead, Gil, and remember… hell hath no fury like a student scorned."

"Gri…" Sara called, but the line went dead.

And slowly, as Grissom jumped up and started his frantic search, Grissom started to die inside too.

……….

**__**

Present…

The phone rang from the living room, and Grissom walked slowly from the bedroom to answer it. He picked it up, and answered.

"Grissom."

"Gil Grissom? My name is Kyra Green, I'm with the Denver Police Department. You're name was in a file, a missing persons investigation…"

"Sara Sidle?" he could barely say it.

"Yes sir. Your listed as lead investigator from the Vegas end. I was told by my supervisor to get a hold of you right away sir. A young women was found off Interstate 76, in a small town called Hudson, about 31 miles from here, matches the missing women's description. You should get here a.s.a.p, sir. I think we have her."


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Author's note: I just can't get this one outta my head! I had pit practice today, and I missed more then a few cues by thinking of what to write next. Anywho, this is what I got! Thank you all so much for the great reviews, I'm glad you all like it… lol, and I'll try to edit better! Thanks to whoever pointed out the you're/your thing! I'll watch for it! Anyway, onwards!

……….

Grissom ran into the lab, bumping past people without stopping to apologize, even as some of them got a little snappy. This man was on a mission - he needed to get to Denver.

Of course, he would have gone alone, booked a flight and set out right after receiving the phone call, but even in his frantic state, Grissom was smart enough to remember that, technically, this was still an investigation. He would need someone to come with him, not only for moral support for whatever waited for him in the small town of Hudson, but also to keep him focused on the case. If this girl was Sara…someone was going to pay.

"Whoa, whoa! Grissom! Where's the fire?" Nick said as Grissom brushed past him, but he wasn't graced with a reply.

Instead, Grissom made a left, straight into Brass's office, closing the door behind him, not caring that it clattered shut with a loud bang. Brass looked up from his computer, and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Gil, what the hell is going…"

"Jim, I need two things from you. I need a member from nightshift, besides myself, and I need two plane tickets to Denver," Grissom said quickly.

"So… you need four things from me?"

"This isn't a joke, Jim. I got a phone call tonight as I was getting ready for work, from the Denver Police Department. They found a women matching Sara's description, and they need me out there now."

Brass sat back in his chair, and swiped at his face in disbelief. He looked around his office, quickly formulating a reply through the shock that coursed through his nerves.

"Is it her?" he managed.

"God, I hope so," mumbled Grissom.

Brass nodded, "I'll get those tickets. Who'd you want to bring? Greg's a level two now, he could use the experience."

Grissom shook his head, "No, this isn't about experience. This is about Sara. Besides, Greg was too close to her. If this is her… and she's…," Grissom couldn't bring himself to say the words, but instead stared the police captain down.

"Right. Take Catherine. She's a strong person, and a dedicated CSI. She wasn't as close to Sara as the guys."

Grissom nodded, then collapsed into the nearest chair. He let his head fall into his hands, his form shaking slightly as he let out a quiet sigh. Brass picked up the phone and called the airport, explaining the situation to the person on the other end, and within a few minutes, two tickets were booked for Denver, the flight leaving in four hours. As soon as Brass hung up the phone, Grissom spoke.

"Do you know it's been two years today since Sara disappeared?" he whispered.

Brass nodded, "Yeah, who could forget?"

"Do you think it's just a coincidence, or do you think this was part of the perp's plan all along?"

"It's hard to say," said Brass, "But I hope that Sara managed to get a few hits in before whatever went down happened."

Grissom smiled slightly, then stood up, "I have to find Catherine, tell her what's going on."

Brass nodded as he watched Grissom walk out of the room. Jim Brass wasn't much of a praying man, but as he watched his friend leave the room, he couldn't help but say a small one.

'Please Lord, if you're up there, don't let this turn out to be nothing… or worse… don't let her turn up dead.'

……….

It hadn't taken long for Grissom to convince Catherine to come with him to Denver, and it definitely didn't taken long for the four hours before the flight to pass. Time flew and found the two CSI's sitting on the plane, listening to the instructions the flight attendant read before take off. Even that was over soon, and the plane was up in the air.

Grissom pulled out a worn folder from his briefcase, and set it on the tray table. He stared down at it, and let his fingers skim its surface. He pursed his lips; he couldn't bring himself to open it.

"Grissom? Aren't you going to fill me in?" asked Catherine gently from next to him.

Grissom turned to look at her, then looked back to the folder. He wrapped his fingers around the edge, and slowly pulled it open. He stared down at the first picture on top, and shuddered…

………..

__

"The rooms a mess," warned Detective Warner as he opened the door, "and seeing as how you all knew her, I'm sure you'll be able to tell us whether or not this was just the way the victim lived."

__

Grissom nodded, and Detective Warner opened the door. Grissom peered inside, noting evidence markers as he stepped carefully over the threshold. He winced as he studied the room.

__

"Sara wasn't like this. She was very neat… very organized."

The room stood in shambles. The bed was torn apart, clothes thrown about the room, notes and other papers scattered about the floor. Sara's cell phone lay shattered on the floor, near the entrance, next to a small pool of blood. Grissom kneeled down next to it, then looked up at blood splatter that decorated the white paint of the wall.

"She was hit when she answered the door, then at some point was knocked down. She probably laid here for awhile as whoever did this ransacked the room. Bastard was probably searching for something," said Warner as he stood over Grissom.

"How did he get her out of here? If she was knocked out, it would have been hard to get her out of here without being caught," noted Grissom.

"I don't exactly know…yet…but there's still more I have to show you," said Warner, walking out of entrance, and further into the room. Grissom shuddered, then followed.

……….

Catherine started at the photo of the blood splatter, then looked at Grissom, "So, she was at the door when she was attacked?"

Grissom nodded, "Yeah. I can verify that, too."

"Yeah?"

"I never really told anyone this, except for Brass and Detective Warner, but I was on the phone with her when she was attacked. She called me after the first day to let me know how things were going."

Catherine opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it and looked back down to the folder. Grissom flipped through the pictures, then pulled one out. He handed it to Catherine.

"This was the only real piece of evidence of the kidnapper's identity we found that day. A photo, left at the scene. That's me, speaking at a lecture of my own. That just happens to be the same one I met Sara at… don't ask me how I remember that. One thing the kidnapper said to me on the phone was, 'Hell hath no fury like a student scorned.' My guess, this guy was someone I ignored at that lecture… I opted for coffee with Sara afterwards instead."

He left Catherine to her thoughts as he turned from the folder. He started out the window of the plane, studying the green terrain below. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. To this day, nobody except for Brass knew about his relationship with Sara. That was something he had had to explain a few days after she had disappeared. It had been hard, and it definitely wasn't the way he had always hoped it would happen. They had talked about it before, Sara and him, on restless nights as they held each other. Laughing as they figured one day they would just walk in, hands clasped tightly together, hiding smiles as people gasped at the display of affection. And while they had both suspected that the team had some idea, they had never gotten the chance to tell them.

It had happened four months before her disappearance. A tough case that neither one could handle found Sara at his door one rainy night in October. Her hair was wet, clinging to her face, tears running down her checks. Without saying a word, Grissom pulled her inside, and right into his arms. They talked about the case, they talked about them, they talked about the future. They had fallen asleep on his couch, the T.V. flickering in the dark room, and morning had come too soon. From there, the rest was history, a blooming relationship that had ended with the phone call made from her hotel room.

Grissom was pulled from his thoughts by the ding of the 'fasten seatbelts' sign, and the voice over the intercom.

"This is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for descent. Thank you for flying with us today, and please, enjoy your stay in Denver."

TBC


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Author's note: Ok, here's the next chapter! Again, thank you for all the great reviews, you all are the best! Is the suspense killing you? Oh, btw, sorry it's so short! I'll try to post more later tonight!

……….

__

"Do you need a few minutes?"

"No."

"This is how it'll work, then. We'll pull back this curtain, and my assistant will pull back the sheet. Take as much, or as little, time as you need to make the identification. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Jeffery, the curtain please."

It seemed to pull back in agonizingly slow motion, the whir of the rope buzzing in Grissom's ears. It revealed a table similar to the ones he had seen a million times in Vegas's morgue; the same cold steel, hidden underneath a white sheet, and a dead body. Grissom stared intently at the tuft of brown hair sticking out from underneath the sheet, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was the same hair he had run his fingers through so many times before. Grissom swallowed hard as the assistant stepped up to the table, gently gripping the edge of the sheet, and slowly pulled back.

Grissom inhaled sharply, then leaned in, placing his hand on the window. He licked his lips, then turned away, heading for the door.

"Mr. Grissom?" questioned the M.E.

"It's not her," he said coldly as he pushed the door open and headed back to his hotel room.

……….

"I understand you've been in this sort of situation before, Mr. Grissom," said Kyra Green as she lead him down the hallway.

"Yes, except for last time I was making an I.D. on a body, and hopefully this time it'll be on a living person."

Kyra smiled, "Today must be your lucky day then."

'That's what I'm hoping,' thought Grissom.

Catherine stared at Grissom briefly before turning her attention back to the hallway, "This women, has she been checked out yet?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Kyra, "But we didn't get very far. A responding EMT tried to examine her at the scene… she nearly broke his arm. Not much luck at the hospital, either. A few of the female nurses were able to dress a few of the more severe wounds, but other then that, they weren't able to do much else without her freaking out."

Grissom swallowed nervously, and asked quietly, "What were her wounds exactly?"

"A few deep cuts that should have been treated by a professional long ago, what looked to be a fractured cheek bone, and bruises… lots and lots of bruises."

Kyra stopped them at a door, frowned at both of them, "She hasn't said a word to anyone since we found her. Detective Warner is in with her now, and requested that it just be him for now. Seeing you two, or anyone else for that matter, might be more of a shock then she needs. You can go into the viewing room, though, see if you can't make an identification, or listen to the interview if you'd like. I'll be out here if you need me."

She gripped the handle and pushed the door forward, letting Grissom and Catherine into a cold concrete room. As they stepped in, the door shut behind them. Grissom moved in further, stepping up to the glass, peering into the interrogation room. Detective Warner, slightly aged from the last time Grissom saw him, sat on the right, pushing a cup towards the women who sat on the left. Her hair hung down in her face, and she held her hands tightly in her lap. Her eyes focused on the table top as Warner spoke.

"Ma'am, here's your water."

The women lifted a hand to take the cup, then lifted the cup to her mouth. She coughed slightly as the cool water ran down her throat, then she pushed the cup away.

"Do you know what happened to you?" asked Warner softly; the women slowly shook her head no.

"Do you know your name?" The women nodded yes.

"Can you tell me?" Warner asked, as if talking to a child.

The women froze in her seat, and her lips moved slightly, as if she spoke, but nothing came out. She looked up, her hair falling back from her face, deeply bruised eyes staring at Warner sadly. She opened her mouth again, then closed it, and shook her head no. The women turned her face towards the window, as if studying her own broken and defeated reflection. Grissom gasped, and placed his hand on the window.

"Sara," he whispered.

"Oh my God," said Catherine softly, as she stepped up behind Grissom. He leaned closer to the glass, forehead nearly touch the cold glass, when he heard the women whisper.

"Is he there?" her voice was raspy, "Is he behind the mirror?"

"Who?" asked Warner.

"Grissom?"

Grissom rushed for the door, his hand briefly touching the handle before Catherine pulled him back, "No, Gil! No! She's not ready; you're not ready!"

"Catherine, it's her! I need to see her!"

"Grissom, you are emotionally unstable right now, so is she! Give it a little longer, wait for it to sink in. You can't help her if you're both freaking out."

Grissom settled down, and stared back at the window, hoping to see Sara's eyes again, but her head was turned away, her gaze settled back on the table.

Detective Warner stood, "I'll be right back."

The door opened and Warner gave Grissom a small smile, "It's her."

"When can I see her?" asked Grissom.

"When we get back," answered Warner, "I know this is a long awaited reunion, but there is lots of work to do if you plan on catching this guy, and it all starts in Hudson. Come on, I think you need to see where she's been."

Detective Warner motioned towards the door. Grissom hesitated, then followed the detective and Catherine out the door, turning to take one last look at the broken shell of Sara that sat at the small table, staring blankly at the window in front of her.

TBC


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Author's note: Sorry 'bout the length of the last chapter, but my bro needed the comp, and I had to give it up! Anyway, hope this one is just as good as the last, and hopefully longer ;)!

……….

"So, where exactly are we heading?" Grissom asked from the passenger seat.

Detective Warner stared down the road, quickly switched lanes, then risked a quick glance at Grissom, "I'm taking you to Hudson. We've only got about five more minutes before we hit the town center."

Catherine leaned over in her seat, and in between the two men, "Where exactly did you find her?"

"It's a small house, just on the other side of town. A neighbor called it in, said they saw a black car peeling out of there, thought it looked suspicious. She's an old lady, everything looks suspicious to her. She calls the local police station at least twice a week."

"So, why did they respond?" asked Catherine with a grin.

"Because in a small town like Hudson, not showing up to an old lady's rescue is like not rescuing a kids cat from a tree. It's just not heroic," shrugged the detective.

The next few minutes went by in silence. The small town of Hudson unfolded in front of them. Its buildings were old, circa the 1950's, old men still sitting out on shady porches in front of worn store fronts. The school and police department seemed to be the only updated buildings in the entire town.

Before even getting a look at Hudson, it was slowly fading behind them, and instead the Colorado countryside opened up in front of them, a few worn houses dotting the landscape every so often. It was about five houses down that Detective Warner slowed to a stop.

"This is it," he said, stepping out of the car, "right where we found her."

Grissom and Catherine stepped out as well, and stood next to Warner's car, staring at the old two story. Weeds cluttered the front lawn, a rocky trail led to the front door. The paint was nearly completely stripped from the siding, the windows were cracked and sagging with time. Grissom shuddered inwardly.

"This is where you found her?"

Detective Warner nodded, "Yep. Wait until you see the inside."

They took a step forward, but immediately stopped when a shrill voice echoed across the road.

"Well, it's about time you fellers came back to explain what was going on!"

The three turned around, and stared in half amusement, half caution at the old women hobbling across the road. She moved her feet carefully, trying to keep her slippers on, but really only successfully managing to kick up dirt from the road. Her gray hair was up in curlers, but would have easily fallen across her brightly colored night gown, had it been let down. After a few long seconds, she stood in front of the two criminalists and the detective, shaking a wrinkled pointer at them.

"Wake me up in the wee hours of the morning without a good excuse, OR without telling me if you found that troublemaker who pulled outta here making such a racket! And now, you interrupt me and my stories!" she shifted her weight, and placed her hands on her hips, "Well, go on then!"

Catherine stared at the women, jaw dropped, then exchanged a look with Grissom. He shrugged tiredly, then looked to Warner.

"Oh, uh, Mrs. Barker, this is Gil Grissom, and that's Catherine Willows. They've come up from Las Vegas to help solve a crime that was committed here."

The group faced the old women again. This time, it was her turn to be shocked. She let her eyes dance between Warner, Grissom and Catherine, and the house that stood behind them.

"What did you find?" she finally decided to ask.

"Ma'am, I don't think we're exactly at liberty to talk about that right now, but, I do have one question for you, if you don't mind," said Grissom gently.

Mrs. Barker looked at Grissom and nodded vigorously, "Well, go right ahead, dear. Anything to help the police."

"Have you noticed any suspicious activity at this house, besides the car pulling out the other night?"

Mrs. Barker thought for a minute, then answered, "Not to my recollection. This house was abandoned, oh, about two years back. A nice young man came by around that time, looking to purchase it, but I told him not to bother. It's a hunk o' junk, and it was better to pay no mind to it, just like everyone else."

Grissom nodded, noting the time frame carefully in his head. He stared away briefly to look at the house, then to Warner, who read Grissom's mind.

"Well, Mrs. Barker, thank you for your time and cooperation, but if you could just step back into your home, we have a very important investigation to get underway."

Mrs. Barker nodded, then added, "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

And with that, she turned around and headed back to her house. When she was a safe distance way, the group let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Interesting character," said Catherine as they headed up the porch steps.

"As much so as they come. But she's harmless," noted Warner.

Carefully, the detective opened the door and stepped aside to let the CSI's in. Closing it behind them, they took a look around the room. Grissom pulled out his flashlight, shining on the walls around them.

"It's a mess," whispered Catherine.

"Yeah. But you've only got flashlights… and this is only the living room. There are so many things about this place, even some of my best men went running out for air."

Grissom remained silent, but moved quickly to a corner. Catherine's eyes followed him briefly, before she spoke, "Something seems off about this scene."

"Or extremely on," mumbled Grissom. His fingers reached out towards a doll that sat in the corner, but he pulled back as memories flooded his brain…

……….

__

"Two weeks, and this was her only companion," said Sara over the lump of tears forming in her throat.

Carefully, she picked up the doll, letting her gloved fingers run over the tear and blood stained surface. She looked away as a few of her own tears spilled over, then she set the doll down.

"A sign human emotion on the killers behalf?" wondered Grissom aloud from his position over the small body. He quickly snapped another picture, then looked at Sara.

Sara stared back at him, but looked away. She looked to the far wall, and walked in that direction.

"Dog dishes. Is there any other evidence of a dog here?"

"None that I've found. No hairs, no 'business,' … just this little girl."

Sara picked up the bowl, and ran a finger through the contents, "This wasn't for a dog… this was for the girl," she said quietly.

Grissom winced. He looked down at the small form underneath his camera lens. A small girl, Heather Rollins was only about seven. Her face was battered badly, deep cuts littered her arms and torso. She had gone missing two weeks ago, on a trip with her mother. Now, here she was, in this dirty house, dead, the man who supposedly did it killed her by drugging her in a desperate attempt to get rid of the girl . Grissom sighed, but a small white piece of paper caught his eye. He pulled it from the girl's grasp.

"Sara, take a look at this," he said, holding it up.

Sara came over and bent down, leaning over Grissom's shoulder. He unfolded it, and after reading it, both CSI's smiled down at the brave young victim.

On a small piece of paper the girl had managed to write something down before her death; the name of her killer. And it just so happened to be the name of their suspect.

……….

"Grissom? What is that supposed to mean?" asked Catherine.

Grissom stood up, and looked at Catherine and Warner. He sighed, knowing that he'd have to tell them.

"Four months before Sara disappeared, we worked a case together. Young girl disappeared while on vacation with her mother."

"Yeah, the Rollins case. It was a rough one."

"At the crime scene we found three things: a doll," Grissom held up the doll he had found in the corner, "a note in the girl's hand with her killer's name, and dog dishes."

Warner reached down and picked something up, "Similar to this?"

Grissom nodded, "Actually, exactly like that."

"But you nailed that guy. Are you saying we have a copy cat?"

"No. Two of those details were never released to the press; the dog dish and the doll. Do you remember what Sara's kidnapper said to me the day he took her?"

Catherine stood silent for a moment, then nodded, "_Hell hath no fury like a student scorned._"

"So, you're saying someone was following you… spying on you, maybe?" broke in Warner.

"Someone who did that would know the details of the case. The Rollins girl was kept for two weeks, Sara was kept for two years. The dog dish, the doll… and one more thing. Something big that happened as a result of the case. Something that made Sara very significant."

Catherine and Warner waited patiently.

"After we wrapped up the case, Sara came over to my apartment. We started talking and… one thing sort of led to another. As a result of this case, Sara and I started a relationship, and had been together until…," his voice faded, and Catherine finished for him.

"Until she disappeared."

"So, you're saying that some twisted ex-student of yours is playing some sick game with us, using a case that heavily affected your life, and that of your girlfriend?"

"I'm saying that, whoever this guy is, he knows my every move, and it'd be wise to catch him before he wins this game."

TBC


	5. 5

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Author's note: Sorry 'bout the delay, guys. I've been sick since Tuesday night, and am still kinda sick, so bear with me! Thank you again for all the great reviews!

……….

Grissom, Catherine, and Detective Warner had quickly bagged the evidence at the scene, and walked through the house once more before heading back to the station. Catherine and Warner had made small talk on the way back, but Grissom just stared absent-mindedly out the window, his mind focused on the women waiting back at Denver HQ.

It had taken all of his strength not to run in once they pulled into the parking lot, and Grissom's legs were sore from the force it took to hold them back as soon as they reached the stairs. He wearily followed Warner and Catherine to log in their evidence, but focused his thoughts on a room just a couple rooms down.

"Mr. Grissom," Warner interrupted his thoughts, "I'm sure you two have been separated long enough. Why don't you go wait for Kyra outside the room. She shouldn't be too long."

Grissom smiled at the detective, and nodded as he left the room. He stood outside the interrogation room, tapping his fingers impatiently against his folded arms. His eyes wandered back and forth between the people passing him by in the hallway, trying to settle on the familiar face of the young officer. Finally, he saw her at the end of the hallway. She smiled when she saw him, and waved a hand in acknowledgement; Grissom nodded in return.

It didn't take long for her to reach him after that, "Mr. Grissom, hope I didn't keep you waiting to long."

"Not at all," said Grissom as he followed her through the door into the viewing area.

"Ok, just a few ground rules. I'm sure you already guessed a few of these. I know you know her, but I wouldn't recommend touching her. She gets pretty jumpy. Keep your voice low, and try to remain seated at all times. Any sign of agitation or aggression, even if it's not towards her, upsets her pretty badly. Any questions?"

Grissom shook his head, then reached for the door. Kyra stepped out of the way as he pulled the door open.

"I'll be right out here if you need me," she said.

Grissom nodded a thank you, and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat down at the table, taking a deep breath as the second door behind him opened. An officer stepped in, followed by Sara. Grissom inhaled sharply as he turned to face her, fighting every urge in his body to stand up and pull her into his arms.

It took Sara a few seconds to take her eyes off the ground and focus on the man sitting at the table, but as soon as she did, she gasped, and took a step back. She stood still, staring with wide eyes as Grissom smiled gently.

"Sara," whispered Grissom.

Sara licked her chapped lips and cocked her head to the side, "Grissom?"

Grissom nodded slowly and watched as Sara walked to the other side of the table, taking her seat in the chair across from him. She folded her hands together and stared at him from across the table.

"Sara, honey…," Grissom trailed off, studying her bruised face. Sara picked up on it and looked down.

"Grissom, I'm… I'm fine," she rubbed at her arm nervously.

"Have you seen the doctor yet?" Grissom asked softly.

Sara sat silently, avoiding Grissom's eyes. She shrugged, "Yeah, well, I've seen a nurse. But nothing is wrong with me, so it doesn't really matter."

Grissom shook his head, "Sara, you've got cuts on your arms, your face is bruised, and we don't know…"

"Don't you think I know what's happened to me, Grissom?" she yelled.

Her eyes finally met his. Grissom hands gripped the edge of the table. A tear lethargically ran down Sara's battered cheek, and she quickly looked back down. Grissom leaned forward.

"Sara… do you know what happened to you?" he whispered.

Sara didn't look up, but shifted nervously in her chair. Grissom knew he was breaking the rules Kyra had set down, but slowly, he got up from his seat, and made his way around the table. Slowly, he kneeled next to Sara, and looked up at her face. She closed her eyes as he gently took one of her hands.

"I don't… it's hard…"

Grissom squeezed her hand, "It's going to be ok, Sara. We're here to fill in the blanks. I won't let this guy get away. I promise."

Sara's head shot towards his, and she shook her head furiously, "No, Grissom, no. Just… let it go, ok. I'm here, I'm back. Just… drop it."

Grissom furrowed his eyebrows, "Sara, no. This guy took you away. He hurt you. I won't let him get away with that."

Sara continued to shake her head, "Grissom, this guy is evil. If you go after him… he will outsmart you. He will get you. If you chase him, we're both as good as dead. You have me back, isn't that good enough?"

Grissom was silent. Having Sara back was a dream come true, especially after two years of wondering if she was dead or not, but the thought that whoever did this was still out there, well… that scared him. He could come back, take her away again, and that was something Grissom did not want to risk.

"Grissom?"

"I don't want to lose you again, and the only way I can make sure that doesn't happen is to see him brought to justice."

Grissom stood up and gently pulled Sara up with him. She stared at him as he wiped away her tear.

"We're going back to Vegas tomorrow. The sooner you're away from here, the better."

"But, Grissom…"

"And Sara, don't worry," Grissom whispered, "we're going to figure out what happened to you, and we're going to bring this guy down. No matter what it takes."

TBC

……….

****

Author's note: I'm sorry I didn't write more, but I'm starting to feel sick again! I'll post a much longer chapter tomorrow! I promise!


	6. 6

****

Author's note: Sorry for the extremely long delay! I'm feeling much better now, thank you all for hoping I got better! A musical I was performing in was last week, so I wasn't able to write between rehearsals, performances and other school work and practices. But, here it is! Chapter six! Please, I hope you enjoy, and I hope the lack of affection from the reunion can be explained!

……….

__

"It is absolutely amazing just how fast time flies when you're having fun, isn't it?"

Sara had hoped that she had heard that cold voice for the last time two days ago, when he had last walked into the dark room. She had wished she could formulate an escape plan, or at least die alone, without staring into his fiery eyes. But he had come back… he always came back.

"Now, Sara, what have I told you about thinking bad thoughts?"

"Go to hell, you bastard," Sara mumbled as she turned her head away from his voice.

Hot breath puffed out against the chapped skin of her neck, and the man's calloused hands ran against her battered cheeks. Sara flinched, and tried to pull away, ducking her head low to avoid his touch. She sucked in a deep breath.

'Don't let him see you cry, Sara,' she thought.

"It's been a year now. Do you remember the promise I made you a year ago?"

Sara nodded slowly, "You said you'd let me see a picture. His picture."

"If you managed to live a year. I have to give you credit for that. Before I met you, I judged you to be weak. You definitely surpassed all my expectations."

Sara felt something fall against her lap, then felt his hands go to the knotted rope keeping her wrists together. He lowered her blooded wrists to her lap, as Sara grimaced at the sharp pain shooting through her shoulders, but her hands went straight for the picture.

"I took a little vacation for two days, in case you were wondering. Las Vegas, what a beautiful city, don't you think? He's enjoying it too, by the looks of it."

Sara gripped the picture tight and stared down at the image. She gasped and tossed it away, screaming as the man grabbed her arms again and thrust the rope over them, pulling tightly to secure it firmly on her cut wrists. Sara let out a sob, looking away as the man shoved the picture in her face.

"Does this look like a man who cares that you're gone? Does it? One year, and he's smiling and laughing, as if nothing ever happened. As if YOU never happened. Have you ever wondered why, after a year, the country's greatest criminalist never found you?"

Sara shook her head, forcing his voice out of her head.

"He doesn't care that you're gone. And in one more year, it'll be the same story! He doesn't love you, he never did! You'll learn to except it, just like I did. He's never coming for you, Sara, never!"

The man walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, and Sara cried, wishing it all to be over soon.

……….

"You're going back to Vegas?" Catherine asked in disbelief.

"She can't stay here, Cath. She needs to be home. Let me take her back, I can assist with the investigation from the Las Vegas angle. If someone had been following me, there might be evidence of that."

Catherine shook her head and flopped into the seat next to Grissom. She placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her.

"Gil, what do you really expect to find in Vegas?"

Grissom shrugged, "A name. A face. This bastard knew things that… that even you didn't know about. Maybe he showed up in a photo from the Rollins case, or something. I need to look. I can't say I didn't try."

Detective Warner knocked on the doorframe, and walked into the break room. He sat down at the table, rubbing a hand over his tired face, and stretching his legs in front of himself. He leaned forward and grinned.

"She fell asleep in Kyra's office. She'll probably be out for at least a couple of hours. Considering what she's been through, Ms. Sidle seems to be taking it pretty well," he paused to yawn, then added, "I hear you're taking her back to Vegas."

"I want to. Maybe she'll open up more if she's back home."

"Do you really think that's wise to do, her being in this fragile state and all?" Warner asked.

"She'll be heading home, with people she trusts," Grissom said.

"Yeah, about that…"

Warner trailed off and stared at Catherine, who nodded and turned towards Grissom. She bit her bottom lip, as she wondered how to tell him what she knew would eventually have to be said.

"What? What's going on?" asked Grissom.

"Grissom…,"

"What the _hell_ are you implying? Are you saying she doesn't trust me anymore?"

"Mr. Grissom, we're just saying… two years is a long time to not see someone you thought would come to you're rescue. I'm sorry to put it that way, but it's true."

"Sara was with this guy for two years. He could have put a lot of crazy thoughts into her head. We never showed up kicking down any doors and pulling her out of that hell, and she was probably wondering why. He was probably the only one around, and his explanation was probably the only thing she had to listen to," Catherine added gently.

"She was reluctant to come back with me," whispered Grissom.

"She's probably scared. Think of the change. She's still in a very fragile state, and things need to go slowly. She may not trust you completely for awhile. It's something you'll have to get used to," warned Detective Warner.

Grissom nodded and lowered his head into his hands. He fought back the tears quickly gathering behind his closed eyes, and he swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. In all the years he had known Sara, he had done some crappy things, but not once during the two years she was missing did he ever think she would come back thinking he was the enemy. The thought sent shooting pains through his gut, and squeezed at his heart. He nodded slowly as he looked up.

"I… I can handle that," he lied.

"Are you sure? Catherine could take her back if you'd…"

"I said I can handle it. We have a flight for six p.m. I should start getting ready," Grissom stood up and walked out of the room.

Catherine and Warner watched as he left, and sat quietly as soon as he was gone. Warner was the first to speak.

"Is he going to be able to do this?"

"I'm not sure. I do know that when they get back to Vegas, though, there's gonna be a team there waiting for answers. Answers they never got two years ago. Grissom is going to have a lot of explaining to do when he tells them they can't see her, and that's when things could get ugly."

Catherine shrugged and stood up, stretching her tired limbs before walking out of the room to find Grissom and help him prepare for his flight to Las Vegas, and a whole mess of new problems.

……….

__

"What the hell is going on Grissom? I got here for shift and the place was buzzing with life like I've never seen," Nick said as entered the break room.

The team was already gathered around the nightshift supervisor, who sat distraught in his seat, frantically talking on his cell phone.

"Her name is Sara Sidle, room 206... Yes, I know it's standard to wait twenty four hours but… no! You listen to me, God damn it! I was on the phone with her when it happened. If you'd stop wasting time and get over there, you might find her!" There was a pause, and Grissom sighed, "Gil Grissom, with the Las Vegas… hell yes, I'm coming to assist with the investigation… I don't care if it's personal! She was my CSI!… Tomorrow morning? No, I'll be there tonight."

Grissom shut his phone off and slid it back into his pocket. He stood up and looked around the room, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Griss, what's going on?" asked Warrick from his seat.

"Sara's gone missing. Someone took her. I…I'm heading to Denver, I'm leaving in a few minutes. Look, uh, Warrick's in charge while I'm gone… I'll call when I find her."

He walked out of the room, and Greg shook his head.

"Are we just gonna let him leave without letting us help? We have to do something, don't we?"

Greg stood up and ran out the door after Grissom, shouting his name down the hall, "Grissom! I'm coming with you!"

Grissom kept walking, "Stay here Greg. I might send evidence to our lab. I don't trust anyone else to do it, and I'll need you here to help."

"Hell, no, Grissom, I'm not you're lab boy anymore. I'm a CSI damn it, and Sara's my friend, let me help! Will you stop? Grissom!" Greg grabbed the older man's shoulder and pulled back, causing Grissom to spin around and face the younger CSI.

"Greg, back off!" Grissom grabbed Greg by the collar and pulled him close, "If you really want to help Sara, you'll stay here where you can't screw things up!"

Grissom let go, and Greg took a step back as Grissom stared him down. Catherine, Nick and Warrick ran up behind Greg, staring wide-eyed. With that, Grissom turned around and started back down the hallway.

"Come on Catherine, we have a flight to catch."

Catherine ran to catch up with him. Two years would pass before the team would hear anything else about the disappearance, and see Sara Sidle.

TBC


	7. 7

****

Author's note: Sorry for the delay! I know I said I'd post Friday, but my drumline scheduled a late practice, then Saturday we had an all day competition. But, starting this week, I will be updating AT LEAST once a week (if not more) and I will be trying to make the chapters much longer! So, please, enjoy!

……….

He stared at her out of the corner of his eye, just like he had been doing for the last half an hour. Stealing glances at her, trying to convince himself that she was still there. And of course she was, it was just so hard to get used to when she wasn't making a sound in the seat next to him.

It was raining outside; rare in Las Vegas, but not uncommon for the Denver area. Sara's form was still, her head leaning against the car window, moving slightly with the movement from the car. The streaks from the rain cast light shadows over Sara's cheek, but Grissom had a feeling her face held echoes of the same pattern from her tears.

"Sara…?" he asked her still form quietly.

She woke with a start, and sat up in her seat, her eyes wide as she turned to face him. Recognizing his face, Sara calmed down, and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry… did I wake you?"

Grissom kept his focus on the road, but listened for Sara's reply. He bit his lip when she didn't reply right away, but continued to watch the road. He cast a quick glance at her when she leaned against the window again, and rubbed a tired hand over her face.

"I wasn't sleeping," she mumbled.

"It's ok if you were, Sara, you need the rest."

"I'm fine, Grissom. And I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking."

"Well, you should catch some sleep on the plane, at least. We're almost to the airport," he shrugged his shoulders, and continued, "You'll recover better once you're home, anyway."

Sara looked away slowly, fighting away the fears and anger that rose freely into her head. She wrapped her arms around her shivering form, hoping for their warmth to seep through her cold skin. She choked back a sob as tears formed behind her eyes. Shaking her head, Sara sighed.

"Who are you to tell me how I'll recover?" she mumbled.

"Sara, I'm just trying to help," Grissom's eyes briefly rested on Sara's shaking form.

"Trying to help?" she shook her head, "You leave me with that bastard for _two years_, and now you want to play hero?"

Grissom shook his head, "Sara, no, that's not…"

"Damn you Grissom! What were you thinking, that you'd show up, say a few sweet nothings, sweep me back home and everything would be normal again? Is that what you thought? You'd pretend like the last two years never happened? Well, guess what Grissom, they did, and I've got the scars to prove it! You have no _idea_ what hell I went through!"

Sara fumed, turning her head to face him, her eyes piercing him to his very soul. Grissom stared at the road, thinking of exactly what to say. She had every right to be mad; in all honesty, he had hoped things would be that easy. He wanted that old life back, but things would never be that way again. He licked his lips slowly and calmly started to speak.

"I know they were real. I lived every day wishing they weren't. I kept the file on my desk, went through it every shift, hoping something would jump out. And, you're right, I don't have any idea what happened to you, but that's why we're going to Las Vegas. You may not feel safe with me, but maybe you will with the rest of the people who worked everyday trying to find you. Then maybe… maybe we can get some idea, and we can catch whoever it is who did this to you."

"Why can't you just let it go?" she asked.

"Why can't I?"

Grissom was still shocked by her lack of wanting justice. Sara had always been an avid supporter of bringing the bad guy to justice. Whoever had taken her, whatever bastard had done this to her, had really done a number, and even if Sara wasn't all that willing to find this guy, Grissom was. So, Grissom pushed.

"You do know that what happened is a crime, right?"

Sara stared at him in disbelief, "Of course I know it was a crime, Grissom, I've worked on solving crimes like this for years!"

"So why can't you find justice for yourself if you were always so willing to find it for others. Why do you want to give up so badly?"

Sara sat silently for a moment, staring at her bruised hands before answering, "Nobody had to deal with him. He made a lot of promises I don't want him to keep."

"What did he say to you, Sara? If you're trying to protect me from him, you can stop. I don't care what happens to me. I'm trying to protect YOU from this guy."

Sara huffed, "No offense, Grissom, but two years ago you really didn't do such a great job of protecting me."

The car went silent, except for the patter of rain against the windshield, and the wipers clearing them away. Grissom sighed.

"I know… I'm sorry. There are a lot of things I probably could have done differently, and I regret not doing every single thing. But Sara, none of that changes what happened. We can look back on all of the things we could have done, but it can't change what has happened. Trust me, Sara, trust me like you used to. Let me help you. Please."

Sara shuddered at the desperation she heard in his voice. Sara looked down at the ground and took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. Turning in her seat, she looked at Grissom, pushing her fears aside, briefly forgetting all the bad things that had happened. For a moment, it felt like old times, sitting in the car on a way to the scene, hoping the few hours before the end of shift would go by quickly so the she could fall into his arms again. But the moment was quickly broken when her hand found one of the many bruises and she flinched.

"I want to trust you."

"You can."

"It's going to take awhile."

"I know. I can wait."

"Grissom?"

"Yeah?"

"You really kept it on your desk?"

Grissom grinned, and nodded, "Yeah. God, I wanted you back so bad. I looked so hard, Sara… we all did."

Sara sighed, "He told me so many lies, Grissom, but I had to start believing something."

"Sara, I… I know it's going to take awhile before you trust me again, but this… going back home, will be good for you. And you'll be safe, I promise."

Sara hesitated, then nodded, "Ok."

Grissom grinned and turned to the road once more, determined to make her feel safe, protected, and maybe, even loved again.

……….

__

The lights went off, and Sara knew the door was going to open before if did. And when it did, she knew the devil himself was walking through it.

"We're going to play a game," she heard the darkness say.

"Trying to win me over?" asked Sara sarcastically.

"I'm in a good mood today, so I'll pretend like you didn't say that."

Sara heard the click of the man's shoes against the cement floor, and shuddered when she felt his breath against her skin. She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips, trying to keep him distracted from other things.

"Why are you doing this?"

His form retreated, and Sara relaxed. The man walked through the room, and sarcasm dripped from his voice as he spoke, "I was a bored and neglected child. Bad combination."

Sara shook her head, "Neglected, but not so long ago, and you weren't too bored until you decided to take me."

"Smart Sara," the voice paused, "But then, how else could you have been Grissom's favorite?"

"So, its about Grissom?"

The man clicked his tongue, "We're taking an awful lot of risks today, aren't we?"

"I deserve answers if you're going to keep me here," Sara said as she shifted on the floor.

"You deserve nothing, not after taking so much from me."

Sara frowned as she listened to the man's steps. True, she had never really seen his face, other then the quick glimpse at the hotel, but she was sure she had never met the man. Could he be a stalker? Someone who had committed a previous crime she and Grissom had investigated?

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said, "but as far as I can recall, I've never taken anything from you."

Then man shook his head, "Considering you could be dead soon, I'll let you in on a little secret. Grissom met a young, ambitious girl at a seminar once, and fell in love. In his blindness, he ignored the young, ambitious boy. I never did take rejection well."

Sara grinned, "So, it is _about Grissom?"_

"Yes and no. I like to think I'm killing two birds with one stone, no pun intended. I'm getting my revenge in two ways, destroying the man who destroyed me, and bringing pain to the women who stole his heart."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I'm not, I'm finding this quite enjoyable. But, back to our game. It's simple, really. Sleeping is a luxury you no longer have. If I catch you, not only will you feel my wrath, but Grissom will feel it too… when he's identifying your body on the slab."

Sara was shocked, "What? But why?"

"I lost many nights of sleep wondering why. Now you can too," the footsteps headed for the door, "Sweet dreams… oh wait. I guess not."

The man laughed as he slammed the door behind him. It would be a long time before Sara trusted sleep again.

TBC


	8. 8

****

Author's note: Again, I am SO sorry! But this time, I promise, I WILL update at least once a week! I no longer have drumline practice, and work only goes until five, add to that only two classes… I have a life now! Which means I can write again! So, here's to hoping I get around to this more often. Please enjoy!

……….

Following the pair hadn't been hard to do. Neither had keeping up with them. Staying out of their sight, though, and making sure his face wasn't seen… well, that was another story.

He had told her his name once, or a name, anyway. It had been something simple, common, a name easily forgotten or remembered. It had been one of her first questions, and he had answered it without hesitation; Matthew. Sara probably knew it was fake, but at least it was something.

Matthew had given her a lot of things. So many windows to the outside world through his words. That had been half the joy in keeping her; she always became so desperate for information. It was always entertaining. His name had just been the beginning of it all. It gave her something to cling to. It kept her alive, barely. And even he admitted he needed her to carry out his revenge. He had always come around quicker then Grissom.

Watching the couple board their plane, he leaned back in the hard plastic chair and thought back to the day he had met Gil Grissom. The cold October wind biting at his face as he made his way into the lecture hall, filing in behind a group of chattering girls, a younger Sara Sidle falling just behind them as well. Listening intently as Dr. Grissom went through his presentation, jotting down questions and comments. The sting of rejection as Grissom left with Sara, focused only on her as he brushed past him. No one had ever done that before, and even when he had tried to approach him later, the way "the doctor" had brushed him off for a 'previous engagement with another student.' It still stung.

Matthew brushed aside the anger that pulsed through his veins, and steadied his breathing. 'Another day for that, Matt,' he calmly thought to himself, as he watched the last of the passengers board the plane. They'd be calling his flight, soon, and that was something he certainly didn't want to miss.

Gently, he grabbed his carry on from the floor next to him, and made his way over to the gate. There was no rush, no hurry. Yes, he had made promises, lots of promises, to Ms. Sidle, but they could wait just a little longer. Once he made a promise, he always kept them, and that was one thing he knew Sara was sure of.

"Flight 237 to Las Vegas now boarding. All passengers please report to Gate 11."

He was already keeping one, and it wouldn't be too long before he kept another.

……….

Like most nights in Las Vegas, the job had been hard and demanding, but it opened up to a beautiful desert morning. Day shift had taken over by now, and night shift made their way to the nearest diner. Angie's had always catered to their early morning dietary needs, and today was no different.

Or maybe it was.

None of the cases had been different, nor the criminals caught by the end of shift, but there was definitely something different about today. Two CSI's had left at the beginning of shift, a new lead on an old, but familiar, case. And each and every one of them waited for news.

The three men sat around the table, and quickly ordered the usual from the friendly waitress, before turning to each other. Warrick and Nick sat across from the younger CSI, Greg, who poked absentmindedly at his coffee cup. Warrick ran a hand over his cell for the hundredth time that night, as if the motion would make it ring. Nick stared off into space, lost in his own thoughts. None of them spoke. After all, what could they say, really? Today hadn't been like any other day. It was like losing one of their own all over again, except this time, there might be a happy ending. When the silence became too much, Warrick was the first to speak.

"Not hearing anything has got to be good, right?"

Always the optimist.

"I mean, they must be so busy asking her questions and getting her checked out and stuff that they don't have time to call."

Looks were exchanged around the table. Everyone was thinking it, but no one dare say it. Maybe she was dead, and processing her body is what held up the phone call they were waiting for. But the other two nodded.

"Yeah," Nick said quietly, "she's fine, but, it'll take sometime."

The table went silent again, as their food was brought over and set in front of them. Thanking the waitress, they quietly picked at their food.

"It happened two years ago today, didn't it?" asked Greg.

Warrick and Nick nodded. But the revelation was short lived. Warrick's cell rang.

Quickly swallowing a mouthful of eggs, he flipped his phone open, and pressed it against his ear.

"Brown," he said casually.

"Warrick, Catherine."

"Cath, damn, it's taken you guys forever. Spill, now," he said quickly as Nick and Greg leaned in, food forgotten.

"We found her. Considering what she's been through, she's pretty good. Emotionally banged up, as well as physically, but, she's on her way back to Vegas with Grissom as we speak," she said.

"So, she's alive and well?"

"Yes. The bastard that did this though didn't come with the package. I'm going to work the angle over here for a few more days, but there isn't much to go on. I'll see you all soon."

Warrick breathed a sigh of relief, "Right Cath."

"Oh, and Warrick?"

"Yeah."

"I found out about something today. Something between Grissom and Sara. When they get back, if you see them together, and they seem extra close, let them have it. They both need it," she said quietly.

"Yeah, ok. I'll catch you later."

He hung up.

"So?" Greg asked excitedly.

A grin broke over Warrick's face, "She's alright. Well, considering."

Nick let out a long breath, and Greg's head fell into his hands. Nobody in their small group had been that happy or relieved in a long time. After two years, their missing friend was finally back.

"So, what else did Catherine say?" asked Nick.

"She's staying in Denver for a few more days to work their evidence and any leads, Grissom and Sara are on a plane now, and letting Grissom and Sara share their closeness. She kinda implied they had been together before all of this."

"Oh, and like that's a surprise," Nick grinned.

"Is to me," mumbled Greg.

Warrick and Nick shared a glance, then started to laugh. Greg quickly joined them. For two years, up until this point, laughing hadn't really seemed appropriate, but suddenly, it was ok to live again. They turned back to their food, and shoveled it down, feeling like once again, things were back to normal.

"Wait, they're on their way back already?" asked Nick.

"That's what Catherine said."

"Coming home might make Sara feel better. Plus she'll have all of us to keep her safe. Right?" said Greg.

"Of course. We're always here for her, always were. She knows, I'm sure. Wait 'til she gets back. Sara'll have nothing to fear anymore."

……….

Looking out the window on the lights of Vegas blinking below her, Sara couldn't help but feel the fear inside her rising again. A bead of sweat dripped down her cheek as she licked her lips.

"Home," she whispered to the window.

"Huh?" asked Grissom, leaning over.

Sara turned to him and gave him a small smile, "Uh, home. Guess we'll be landing soon."

Grissom looked past her and out the window, nodding when he saw the city below, "Yeah, guess so."

Sara looked back out the window, and frowned. It had been two years since she had stepped out of Grissom's apartment on her way to Denver. She had no idea how much might have changed. And the people she had left behind too, not just the city. She had seen Catherine just before she left, but she hadn't heard much about Greg, or Nick or Warrick. And even though she was sitting right next to Grissom, she had no idea what he had been through in the last two years.

"Hey, Grissom?"

"Yeah?"

Sara sighed, "Remember how you said you needed me to open up, and trust you?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Maybe, if you started out telling me little things, opening up with you about what happened and this transition back into life might not be so hard. You know, if we get these communication lines open again."

Grissom stared at her thoughtfully, and nodded, "Yeah, ok. What would you like to know?"

Sara bit her lip and raised an eyebrow. Grissom studied that look careful, remembering all the evenings off sitting on the couch solving crossword puzzles together. She got that same look with the harder words. He smiled at the memories.

"How's the lab been?" she asked a simple question first.

"Great. Not the same without you but, you know. Greg's a CSI level two now. Ecklie was fired about six months ago. Accepted a bribe from a public official he had been investigating. Other then that, there isn't much to tell."

Sara smiled, and nodded, "Thank you."

"Of course."

Sara stayed quiet for a brief second, then took in a deep breath, "There was a girl named Stacy."

"A girl named Stacy?"

"About a year ago. Looked kind of like me in the dark. Maybe around 19 years old. Scared to death. He, um, he killed her," Sara whispered quietly.

Grissom sat quietly and searched his mind. Then he remembered.

__

It seemed to pull back in agonizingly slow motion, the whir of the rope buzzing in Grissom's ears. It revealed a table similar to the ones he had seen a million times in Vegas's morgue; the same cold steel, hidden underneath a white sheet, and a dead body. Grissom stared intently at the tuft of brown hair sticking out from underneath the sheet, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was the same hair he had run his fingers through so many times before. Grissom swallowed hard as the assistant stepped up to the table, gently gripping the edge of the sheet, and slowly pulled back.

Grissom inhaled sharply, then leaned in, placing his hand on the window. He licked his lips, then turned away, heading for the door.

"Mr. Grissom?" questioned the M.E.

"It's not her."

"I had to I.D. a body, about a year ago. A young girl."

"Was she shot?"

"Yes."

Sara nodded, and turned away. Grissom carefully laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You know, she didn't have a name until now. When you're up to it, we'll talk to Detective Warner and give that girl and her family some peace."

Sara smiled as a tear fell down her face. It was a small victory, but a victory to the good guys none the less.

"This is your captain speaking. We're about to land in beautiful Las Vegas. Please, fasten your seatbelts. We hope you enjoyed your flight, and enjoy your stay in Las Vegas, Nevada."

For Sara, though, unlike the tourists she shared the flight with, it wasn't just a brief stay in Vegas.

She was finally home.


	9. 9

__

He pulled her into one more quick embrace and placed one more kiss on her soft lips as he moved them towards the door. He pulled her closer, enjoying the feel of her warm body against his.

"I'm going to miss you," he whispered against her lips.

Sara pulled away and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, "I'll miss you too."

"Come back soon… and don't bring back any young, hunky scientists. Promise?"

Sara laughed with him as she opened the door, "I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do."

He winked at her as she rolled her eyes and started out the door. He stood still, watching her and let a grin spread across his face when she ran back up to the door way and into his arms.

"I love you, Griss."

"I love you too."

Grissom stole one last kiss from Sara as she walked out the door, heading to a seminar in Denver that she wouldn't come back from…

……….

It was the last thing that she could remember about the doorway, and it had kept her alive more then enough times in that dark basement. And now, here it was again, the doorway barely changed in the two years since she had last seen it. It's paint was slightly faded, slowly losing its battle against the steamy Las Vegas sun. A sun that wasn't out now, and she was thankful for that. The dark hid her darker bruises, and the tears that threatened to spill over, from time to time.

It was hard to believe two years had passed since she had last walked through the doors that sat closed in front of her, and even harder to believe that, while they hadn't changed much, she had.

Grissom gently cleared his throat, pulling Sara from her thoughts. She gave him an apologetic smile as she stepped up to the door. Grissom gave her one last glance before turning the key in the lock and letting the door slide open. He picked up his suit case, and walked in, listening for Sara's footsteps behind him. He turned around when he heard the door shut, and smiled as Sara slowly walked into the dark living room. He reached over and flicked on the light, holding in a sigh when he saw Sara flinch.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the changes he had made since she had left. Noting he had moved the furniture, she sat down on his couch, folding her legs underneath her body, then looked to Grissom, who stood uncomfortably in the center of the room. He shifted uneasily and bit his bottom lip. The house was silent, but the silence that hung between them was deafening. Finally, Grissom spoke.

"I'm going to go put this away really quick. Uh, are you hungry? Maybe I could make something or…," he trailed off when she shook her head.

"I'm not that hungry right now," she paused, then added, "But thank you."

Grissom nodded, then made his way to the bedroom.

Sara's eyes followed him until he disappeared into the bedroom. As soon as he had, she continued to scan the living room. A new coat of paint had been added recently, the smell of it still tickled her nostrils, and a once empty bookshelf was now lined with books; not books, she soon realized. Photo albums.

'A project we were going to start when I got back from Denver,' she thought to herself as she got up and walked to the shelf.

Her hand skimmed over the leather spines, her lips forming a small smile, touched by the fact he had still done this, even if it had been without her. She pulled one down and took it back to the couch with her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the album. She let a laugh escape her lips instantly at the sight of the first picture. Greg, Warrick and Nick after the LVPD softball game three years ago, or rather, Nick and Warrick and a splash in the pond. The had tossed Greg into the pond after a much earned victory against day shift.

__

"It's tradition, really!"

Their words echoed clearly through her head and a smile spread across her face. Everyone had laughed, even Greg had, once he had dried himself off.

Sara turned the page, and the small lump that had been forming in her throat got a little bigger when her eyes settled on the next picture. Tears ran over, happy tears for a happy time. She let another laugh escape her lips. Her hands flung up in the air, clasping one of Grissom's, whose hands were equally high. Her hair was wrapped around the air that flew past her, her mouth opened in a wide smile. The same went for Grissom. Their first official date, and already in love.

Sara shifted her eyes downward, towards Grissom's scrawled note. The tears fell harder, faster as she read it under her breath.

__

'My two loves…"

Sara watched as her tears fell around the picture. She wiped at her face with her sleeve, attempting to take in a breath to calm herself. But as she caught glimpses of the picture, the tears kept falling.

"Sara?"

Grissom was by her side in an instant, his eyes filled with concern. He took her hand and stared up at her as he kneeled in front of her.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

Sara smiled and looked down. Grissom followed her stare, then smiled himself.

"You… you put them together," she whispered around her tears.

"I wanted you to know what happened while you were gone. I wanted you to see happy things, to make readjusting easier… when you came back," he said, the hitch in his voice almost unnoticeable.

Sara's tears were renewed and she allowed herself to lean down into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms carefully around her, and held her shaking form. She buried her head further into his shoulder, sobbing harder then she had let herself in two years. Grissom brought his lips closer to her ear and whispered, "Welcome home."

Sara's breath caught for a moment, before she wrapped her own arms around his shoulders and squeezed. They stayed like that, getting their wish after two long years.

She was home.

……….

The small hotel was a far cry from the brightly lit, towering casino/hotels of the Strip, but even here on this small back road, on this rainy night, Las Vegas' charm was prominent. Paintings of poker games and dice and even some of Vegas' more famous hotels hung in gaudy gold and silver frames. The walls were painted red, and a white boarder covered in card suites wound it's way around the room. The cheeriness of the room, though, was offset by the manager sitting behind the desk, feet propped up, greasy hair combed over to one side to cover his balding scalp. His attention was pulled from the busty blonde in the magazine he held when the bell above the door went off.

"How can I help you, sir?" he asked the lanky man as he straightened in his seat.

The man shook the rain off his black trench coat as he slowly walked into the office. He pulled a crisp hundred out of his pocket and slapped it against the dusty desk. His dark eyes met the manager's as his small lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"I'd like a room, please. Preferably in the far corner."

The manager reached for the bill, but the stranger's hand met his halfway.

"That much money comes with a few extra favors," he added.

"All the rooms have cable, and I can throw in free telephone use," the manager replied sharply.

"Needless to say, I won't require the television, and I carry a cell phone. No, sir, the only thing I ask for is your promise that I will not be disturbed. I'm here on business. No matter what, no one is to come into my room. If you can do that for me, I'll see to it that you are well compensated for your troubles."

The manager considered, then grabbed the bill, "Anything else I can do for you?"

Matthew smiled and leaned across the counter, "Do you have a phone book I can use? I need to find an old friend."

TBC


	10. 10

****

Author's note: Hey all! Well, that's a little sooner then last time, so yay! Hey, and a little longer, so, double yay! I hope you all like it!

……….

Catherine sat down for the third time that evening and opened the worn case file in front of her. Her hands gripped the steaming cup of coffee as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Usually, she wouldn't allow herself to get pulled this deep into a case, but after she saw how important it was to Grissom… well, this guy needed to be caught.

Sara deserved justice as quickly as possible.

Her keen eyes skimmed over the report for anything she might have missed earlier. Flipping the page, she focused on the pictures of Sara's injuries, pictures that had been taken just a half hour before Sara had left the station. Catherine bit her lip as she studied the deep cuts and scars that littered Sara's thin arms, the bruises that dotted her torso. She searched spots that seemed untouched by Sara's kidnapper, the rare patch of smooth skin that came between injuries.

It wasn't long until Catherine saw the small red spot on Sara's shoulder, what appeared to be just a bump, but was something much more.

Catherine picked up her phone.

"Denver medical, how may I help you?"

"Yes, this is Catherine Willows, I'm investigating the Sidle case. May I speak to Dr. Anderson please?"

"Yes, ma'am, one moment."

The phone clicked and rang in Catherine's ear. After one ring, the phone clicked again, and a deep male voice spoke into the receiver.

"Dr. Anderson."

"Dr. Anderson, this is Catherine Willows. We met earlier, I'm working the Sidle case?"

The doctor cleared his throat, "Ah, yes. I just got done reviewing the nurses notes, and my own. What can I do for you?"

Catherine picked up the picture and held it closer, "I'm reviewing the pictures that were taken during the examination, and I found an interesting spot on the patients left shoulder. It looks like an injection was given to her. Did you administer that injection?"

In the background Catherine could hear papers flipping and the doctor cleared his throat again, "I know I didn't give the patient anything other then a Motrin for the pain, and according to the nurse's notes, she didn't administer anything either."

"Were you able to get a blood sample?" Catherine asked as she made a note.

"No. We asked the patient and she got extremely agitated. But after the examination I saw no need for a blood sample anyway. I came to the conclusion that her loss of consciousness when she was found was caused by a concussion bought about when she received that nasty head wound."

"Alright. Thank you, doctor. I'll be in touch."

Catherine hung up without waiting for a reply and stared down at the picture. The redness on Sara's shoulder must have been caused by an injection. A small round bump almost hidden beneath fading bruises. But there would only be one way to prove that, if too much time hadn't gone by.

"Catherine, I found something that might be helpful."

Catherine looked up as Detective Warner walked in. Sitting down across from her, he set a file on the table and smiled.

"What's this?" Catherine asked.

"I thought I'd go over some kidnapping cases to see if maybe Sara's kidnapper was a serial, you know, any cases that matched hers where maybe there was a suspect we could look at, match to the profile. Anyway, I'm looking through the files and I start to see an interesting increase in the number of brunettes that had been kidnapped in the last two years in the Denver/Hudson area. So, I started to focus on those. Here, take a look at this one."

Warner pushed the file towards Catherine, who took them reluctantly. She opened it, and started to read.

"You know, detective, just because there is an increase in brunettes being kidnapped doesn't mean…"

"Just keep reading," he said, and as she did, he explained, "This case happened within the last two years. The girl is a young brunette, within an inch or two of Sara's height, about the same weight, same build. But, what makes this cases stand out is…"

Catherine straightened in her seat as she continued to read, "Grissom came in to id the girl?"

"Yep. Surprised me too; he didn't even stop in to say hello."

"The coroner called him in because the girl matched the description of Sara Sidle, close enough to need someone to make an identification. Why didn't they just do a fingerprint identification, instead of calling Gil?"

"We were told to call him directly if we found anything, and to wait for him."

Catherine grabbed the file and took a drink of her now cold coffee, then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to review the evidence in this kidnapping, go over more notes. Do me a favor, call Grissom and tell him he needs to get Sara to a doctor for a blood sample asap."

"Why the rush?" asked Warner as he stood up.

"Because Sara may have been injected with something and there may still be a chance there is a trace of it in her system. Hopefully I'll find something with this girl. I'll be in touch."

And with that, Catherine left the room, leaving Warner scratching his head, and pulling out his phone.

……….

"And this one. A, uh, private celebration right after Ecklie was fired. Of course, Greg had just gotten a new apartment too with the pay raise when he became a level two, so…"

"God, I miss all of them. When do you think I'll be able to see them?"

Grissom looked over at Sara and shrugged, "Whenever you're ready."

Sara nodded and flipped the page, "What the heck?"

Grissom laughed and got up as his cell phone started to ring, "Don't ask."

Sara smiled and looked back down at the picture. Silently she admitted that shirtless Grissom was definitely a sight for soar eyes… even if he was wearing a puffy pink wig.

"Grissom," she heard behind her as she set the album down and slowly stood.

"I'm going to take a shower," she whispered to Grissom, and he quickly nodded as he went back to his conversation.

"Blood sample?"

"Catherine found something in one of the pictures. She thinks Sara was injected with something. Look, you're the scientist, I don't think I have to explain why it needs to be done soon."

Grissom heard the bathroom door shut, and the water turn on, "No, you don't. I'll see to it. If we can find a chemical in her blood stream, maybe we can trace purchases of it to a suspect."

"If Catherine finds one. I'll let her know."

"Thanks," and with that, Grissom hung up.

Grissom sat on the couch and closed his eyes. He listened to the water in the background, and as he did, tried to figure out a way to get Sara to go to a doctor.

……….

__

If the pain in her head wasn't enough, the feel of wet clothes hanging on her tired body really did the trick in waking her up. So, in the instant she was conscious to it all, the familiar feeling of fear was something she was also very aware of. Then the panic.

She jumped to her feet, grabbing at the wall next to her, but her fingers only met with slick tiling, and her feet fell away beneath her, sending her crashing back onto the wet floor. She could hear the echo of her head cracking against the side of the bath tub as she cried out in pain. But even as her eyesight faded in and out and the searing throb pulsed in her skull, the laugh coming from behind the curtain was still the only thing she could focus on.

"Watch out, the floors wet."

"You bastard. Get the hell away from me!"

Matthew chuckled, and clicked his tongue as he pulled back the shower curtain, "But Sara, you know that we have to clean up before you go. You don't want to be to dirty for your big welcome home. No evidence of where you've been. We wouldn't want that, that'd ruin all my fun."

Sara opened her eyes against the blinding pain, and stared down at the water that filled the tub. It was turning pink with the blood coming from her forehead, and slowly danced around the drain in thin wisps before disappearing. She struggled to sit up.

"The shower has been on, and the walls are wet. Do be careful, wouldn't want another fall today, or else that would make three times you've been knocked out."

"Three times? I may have a concussion, but I think you've only hit me enough today to knock me out once, and then I woke up in a tub. I hope you used conditioner, you bastard."

Before she could react, Matthew's large hand reached out and grabbed her wet neck, squeezing tightly and pulling her up. She clawed at it, gasping for breath, and crying out when she felt the needle being jabbing into her shoulder. Matthew threw her back down and tossed the needle aside, so he could lean over the tub and stare down at Sara as she struggled to remain conscious.

"Just a few parting words before you black out. It's been fun Sara, but the fun has just begun. Don't think this last look is the last you'll see of me. You know, they say two heads are better then one. So, I figure, I'll head to Vegas to see it that's true. See if killing both you and Grissom is better then just having you here. I don't know, we'll see."

Sara started to cry, still trying to stay awake, but the blackness started to invade her eyes, and as everything finally went dark, she heard Matthew's last words.

"Viva Las Vegas, baby. Here I come."

……….

Sara gasped and reached for the metal bar on the side wall. She looked around, her eyes skimming the enclosed space, then peeked behind the curtain to make sure nobody was waiting for her one the other side. She sighed as she turned off the steaming water. There was a knock on the door.

"Sara, is everything ok? I heard bottles falling." came Grissom's muffled voice.

Sara looked down. Sure enough, the shampoo and soap bottles sat below her. She turned her eyes when she saw the pink shampoo spilling out around, slowly following the water down the drain.

"Sara?"

"I'm fine, Grissom, it was just… an accident."

She looked around once more, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel tightly around her shivering form. She looked out of the half drawn curtains on the window, staring at the bright view of Vegas.

"I'm fine," she whispered to herself, "I'm fine."

And then she started to cry.

……….

He walked silently down the dark sidewalk, scanning the girls who stood there, studying him as he walked by. A few smiled, a welcome invitation, others turned away, hiding smirks the quickly spread across their faces. A blonde, a red head, too tall, too big. Perfect.

She was just the right height, and her hair was just the right length. She smiled at him, running a shy hand across her creamy skin. It was all just right. The perfect girl to set all his plans into motion.

He walked slowly up to her, and smiled politely at her, pulling out his wallet.

"Hey. What can I do for you tonight, stud?"

"Oh, more then you know," he said as he took out a hundred and placed it in her hands, then took her arm. She smiled, and pulled herself closer.

"Tell me, do you like crime shows?"

TBC…


	11. 11

****

Author's note: Sorry for the extended delay all! I've been caught up in getting ready for college and haven't had a lot of time to write! But I'm back, and things are WAY less hectic now, so I'll try to write more!

……….

Even the smallest drops of blood were hard to get out. Matthew had always thought that maybe Sara's blood was tougher, therefore making it harder to get out. Of course, he knew that was silly, Sara's blood was no different than anyone else's, and trying to wash the hooker's stains out of his pants just proved his point.

He had hoped his stain washing days were over, but the girl had put up more of a fight then he had expected.

He paused for a moment, staring down at his hands. They were stained pink, and dry specks of blood were still caught underneath his fingernails. Matthew wouldn't admit it out loud, but his stomach ached a little at the sight. In the two years Sara had been with him, he had never had to resort to this much violence at one time. The injection he'd given the hooker had almost been pointless, but even in the end she had refused to give in. He'd been more merciful then anything else. Knock her out so she could die painlessly.

Right now he was happy for the privacy of his motel room. He stared at himself in the dusty mirror. It was like he didn't even recognize his own reflection anymore. Things had gotten a lot more complicated then he had originally planned. In the beginning he knew people would die, but back then, he had only planned on a minimal body count. Two people. Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle. Then it became necessary to draw Grissom back to Denver, and the runaway had been perfect. He had killed her. And now, to let them know they were not alone. Notes and flowers didn't seem appropriate for the occasion. Instead, he left them with a wake up call. Matthew kept his word, and now, he was here. In Vegas to finish what he had started.

He looked at himself in the mirror once more before he left the bathroom. He looked older, more stressed, more worn. But soon, soon it'd all be over.

He grabbed his jacket off the bed and headed for the door. He had places to stop before he headed to Grissom's.

……….

Beginning of shift always seemed slow, but tonight it ran even slower as Warrick tried to set up the phone conference with Catherine. The guys were just lucky that tonight, even the criminals were slow getting to their various crimes.

"Got it," mumbled Warrick as he clicked the on button and quickly dialed Catherine's cell. After a few rings, Catherine picked up.

"Everyone there?" Catherine asked.

"We're all here Cath. Tell them what you told me," replied Warrick.

"Ok. Does anyone remember Grissom leaving for a few days about a year ago?"

The group nodded, but only Greg actually said anything, "Did he go to Denver?"

"Yeah," Catherine said, "He came here to I.D. a body. A girl who looked enough like Sara to catch the medical examiner's eye. Of course, it wasn't her, but still, at the time it was suspicious."

"What are you thinking? The kidnapper was taunting Grissom?" asked Nick.

"Maybe. Whatever he was doing, he got Grissom's attention. He was in town for a day, and took the next two days off. He called in, said he had the flu," said Catherine, and in the background the guys could hear papers being flipped.

"And when have we ever known Grissom to be sick. I knew that was really off," said Greg.

The guys nodded, and Warrick continued, "But it's not just that it caught Grissom's attention, this girl was beaten and sedated before she was shot. A lot of her wounds match Sara's."

"We just need to get a blood sample from Sara. Grissom might take her to a doctor, or he might bring her to the lab. If he does that, don't crowd her guys. She's going to need some space. I'm going to be heading back tonight with the sample of blood the coroner took a year ago. It's been on ice, so we may still be able to find something in the sample. We'll compare it to Sara's sample when I get there."

"Okay. We'll see you when you get here."

The line went dead.

"Ok, Greg, check in with Brass, fill him in on what's going on," said Warrick, standing up from the table, "I'm going to see if anything's come in yet. If we have something, Nick, you'll be with me."

Nick and Greg nodded and headed out of the break room. Warrick headed to his own destination, hoping there would be a new case to take his mind off this old one.

……….

It had taken Grissom awhile to get Sara out of the bathroom, and even longer to make her tears go away. They had shared a hug only half an hour before, but, as he tried to calm her down, she flinched away from his touches. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and when he asked what was wrong, she told him nothing, and refused to let him help. It unnerved him, the way she had turned from him so quickly. But Grissom was a smart man; he knew this was a possibility, even if in the last twenty four hours he hadn't wanted to admit it.

Now that Sara had calmed down, she sat quietly on the couch, her comfy bathrobe wrapped tightly around her shivering body. Grissom was careful not to upset her again. He sat in the chair across from her. Sara absentmindedly rubbed her arm through the robes cotton sleeves, and from where he was sitting, Grissom could hear the shudder in her sigh. The silence was hard, but he would wait until she was ready to talk.

"Who called you earlier?" she asked finally.

"Detective Warner. They're following a lead in Denver, the young girl I went to I.D. about a year ago. The girl you said was named Stacy?"

Sara looked up at Grissom and frowned, "They know who she is? They know he did that to her?"

"No, but they know she's significant. They think she may have been injected with something. They think you may have been too."

Sara closed her eyes. She could see his face, feel the needle being stabbed into her skin, feel the tears threatening to fall again…

She took a deep breath, "I was. In the tub, when he was washing all the evidence of… him… off me. He shoved a needle in me. I passed out not too long afterward."

Grissom nodded and looked down. He rubbed his hands together, as if they were doing his thinking for him, "We… we should head to the lab and draw some blood. I know you may not be ready to see everyone, but… there could still be some trace of whatever it is he injected you with, and if there is, we can look up recent purchases of it in the Denver area. We could find him, Sara."

"Will you do it?"

Grissom looked up, "Do what?"

"Draw my blood. I mean, you'll be doing that, right?"

"Only if you want me to," Grissom replied.

The room was silent for a moment as Grissom waited for any sign that that was what she wanted. Their eyes met, and Grissom's breath caught in his throat, his heart tightened with emotion. Sara nodded her head, and if Grissom had blinked, he would have missed the tiny motion.

"I trust you," she whispered.

He gave her a small smile, then stood up. She followed, and grabbed his hand as he went to walk to the phone. Grissom stopped. He stared at their joined hands, then looked into Sara's eyes. She gave him a small smile.

"Thank you."

Grissom nodded, and squeezed her hand. She let go and walked to the bedroom to get dressed. Grissom grabbed the phone and dialed Warrick's cell phone number.

"Warrick, it's Grissom. I'm bringing Sara in. We need to get a blood sample."

……….

"Yeah, alright, but Nick and I are heading out. Dead girl found in an ally. Greg will be here, though."

Grissom mumbled something on the other end, then hung up. Warrick did the same. Slipping his phone into his pocket, he closed his locker door, then turned to Nick, who was slipping his CSI vest over his shoulders.

"What do we know about the girl?" asked Nick as he followed Warrick out to his Denali.

"Nothing much right now. Vartaan said she was found by a bartender who went to take out the trash. Saw her hand hanging out of the dumpster. She was shot in the head., and beaten up pretty badly."

"Anyone I.D. her yet?" asked Nick as he opened the passenger door.

"A couple of hookers said she was one of them. She'd been picked up about an hour earlier."

Nick turned to look at his partner, "She was that close to where she was picked up and nobody heard anything?"

Warrick just shrugged his shoulders, and turned on the car.

The drive to the crime scene was short, but quiet. Even knowing they had a scene to process, both men couldn't help but feel that leaving the lab behind was somewhat wrong. It had been two years since they had both seen Sara Sidle, and knowing she would be in the lab while they were gone was painful knowledge. Deep down, they both needed to see her, to know that she was truly alive. That need, though, had to be put off for just a little longer. Tonight, someone wasn't coming home alive, and they needed to figure out why.

Vartaan waited for them just inside the crime scene tape. His narrow face seemed a little paler then usual, and a small drop of sweat settled near his hairline. The cool Las Vegas night was doing nothing for him. A few cops lingered around the scene, talking quietly amongst themselves, throwing curious glances at the dumpster where the body lay every few seconds. Warrick and Nick looked at each other, each hoping the other had an answer for the unusual behavior. They would have their answer soon enough.

"I have to tell you, this scene is creeping me and my guys out."

Warrick scrunched his eyes and studied the detective, "Vartaan, how long you've been doing this? I know you've seen a dead body before."

Vartaan looked back at the dumpster, then back to Nick and Warrick, "It's not that. She just looks so much like her that we almost called to see if she hadn't gone missing again."

"Whoa, back up. Who does the vic look like?" asked Nick.

Motioning towards the dumpster, Vartaan stepped back from the tape, "Go have a look for yourselves."

The CSI's picked up their kits and ducked under the tape. Curious stares followed them as they carefully made their way to the dumpster, making sure not to disturb any potential evidence along the way. When they reached its side, they pulled out latex gloves. The snap of the latex against their skin echoed in the empty ally.

"Count of three?" asked Nick.

Warrick nodded. Nick counted down on his fingers and when he reached three, both men leaned over the edge. They met the girls hazel eyes.

A girl who was a dead ringer for Sara Sidle.

They wanted to pull back in horror, but their eyes wouldn't let them. Two years, and their first view was a look alike in a dumpster. Warrick shook his head and closed his eyes.

"What do you think? Coincidence?" he asked.

Nick shook his head, "Can't be," he whispered.

"Why not?"

"Well, unless this girl, who just happens to look like Sara, also just happens to know a Grissom, I think we were meant to find her."

Warrick frowned and followed Nick's gloved finger. Gripped tightly in the girl's hand was a sealed envelope.

And on the front, the words, "To Grissom."

……….

The street was dark, lit only dimly by the lamp at the center of the block. A car pulled into the parking lot across the street from the townhouses. Matthew relaxed a little when the car drove around to the back, and didn't return.

A light in Grissom's window turned on, and a shadow passed across the opaque curtains. A smile spread across Matthew's face; he wasn't too late. Grissom and Sidle were still home. He slid down in his seat a little and turned his body more towards the house. The light in the window turned off, and the door opened. Sara stepped out. Her hair shimmered in the porch light. She had just gotten out of the shower, Matthew noted. She smiled as Grissom stepped out behind her, shutting the door, and locking it. He met her eyes and nodded his head as she said something, then led her down the stairs. As they walked to his Denali, she timidly took his hand in hers and smiled up at him as he walked her to the passenger side. Seconds later, they were pulling away, and Matthew's eyes followed them down the street.

When the car turned the corner, he stepped out of his rental, scanning the street for anyone who might see him approaching the townhouse. The light above the door bothered him, it lit up more of his face then he liked. But it didn't much matter right now, his business only brought him here for a few minutes longer. Just enough to leave one more envelope for Grissom and Sara, so they knew for sure he was here.

He set the envelope on the door step, and walked away. If the body in the dumpster wasn't enough to shake them, the note on the doorstep would. Not only would they know now that he was in town, but he knew where they lived too.

And they would not be getting way. It was nearing the end.

TBC


	12. 12

****

Author's note: Thank you all SO MUCH for the wonderful response to the last chapter! I know my breaks between writing can be a pain, but thank you for sticking with me! So, please, enjoy this next chapter!

……….

"We're waiting to open it until we get to the lab," said Nick into the phone as he stared at the bagged letter.

Brass shook his head on the other end, "Is there anymore evidence that this is the guy?"

"Jim, she's a dead ringer for Sara. There is a letter addressed to Grissom, she was shot once in the head like the girl Catherine's looking into back in Denver, and I'll bet you anything that she has been injected as well."

"I'm just trying to… you know what? I'll just wait until you get back to the lab."

"Have you gotten a blood sample from Sara yet?" asked Nick.

"Grissom and Sara should be here any minute now. I'll call you when I know something."

……….

Now that she was back in Vegas, it seemed like everywhere she went was filled with bright light that reached every corner, obliterated every dark shadow. And as comforting as Sara always thought the light would be during two dark years, right now she just wanted to curl up in her dark room and sleep.

She associated light with happiness, hope. Two things that right now right now she didn't really have. She was relieved to be free, but happy wasn't a word she would use, and after two years of threats from Matthew, she didn't dare hope for anything. Sara knew what he was capable of taking away.

Right now, walking into the lab squeezing Grissom's hand tightly in her own, was the closest she would allow her self to feeling safe. To feeling anything. She wanted to be numb when the nightmares came, the flashes of her captor rushing her mind. She wanted to forget and let go, and if no one was going to let her do that, she would be numb to their investigation.

"Sara? How are you doing?" Grissom whispered when they reached his office door.

She forced a smile to creep to her face, "I'm doing better. Why are we here? I thought we were getting my blood drawn?"

Grissom nodded as he pushed the door open, "Yeah. But you're going to wait in here while I go grab Greg. I don't want to make a commotion, and… I don't want you to be overwhelmed by people."

Sara bit her bottom lip, and stared at him as he led her into the office. He just shrugged and let go of her hand to walk around his desk. Grabbing a note off his desk, he frowned, and started back for the door.

"Warrick and Nick are out on a case. Wait here, I'll only be a second."

Sara shifted awkwardly as she watched Grissom walk out. She rolled her eyes and turned to examine the random knickknacks that lined the shelves around the office.

Grissom's sure step took him quickly out of the room, winding him around the sterile hallways of the lab. Not too far away, he could hear Greg talking to someone.

"Yeah, I'm heading over. Well, give me a few seconds, I can't teleport to his office. Brass, calm…," but he wasn't able to finish his sentence as he walked right into Grissom.

"Jesus, Griss. You should watch where you're going. Yes Brass, I found him! I'll call you back," and he shut his phone.

"Where have you been? And where's Sara?" asked Greg as he stared over Grissom's shoulder.

"We had a bit of a situation back at home, but we got it taken care of. And Sara is waiting in my office. Where are Warrick and Nick?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, about that… look, they got called out to a case. Brass said Warrick or Nick would be trying to call you but…," and Greg was interrupted again by his ringing cell. He sighed and flipped it open.

"Brass, I told you to give me a… oh, hey Warrick… yeah, he is," Greg turned to Grissom and held his phone out to him, "Your phones not on."

Grissom frowned and took Greg's cell, "What is going on Warrick?"

He listened carefully to Warrick's deep voice, noting that he held back his fear with calm restraint. With every word he spoke, Grissom's face fell a little further, until he turned slowly around to look at Sara through the glass windows of his office.

"We, ummm… we have to take her blood first. We'll head straight back to my place," he paused to listen to Warrick again, "I won't tell her, not yet. She's just starting to calm down. Thank you Warrick."

Grissom quietly closed the phone and handed it back to Greg, "We need to do this quickly. If he's here…"Grissom didn't continue, but started to make his way to Sara, hoping he could get her back home without being found.

……….

He watched the lab carefully, licking his lips as people walked in and out. All those people, and he was sure that the only ones who knew what was going on in this small, small world were locked away inside, breathing easy, thinking they were safe. Even with that small amount of people in on his game, the lab seemed to buzz with renewed life. And that made him smile.

Grissom and Sara had been inside for about thirty minutes, and he wasn't surprised when he at last saw them walk out. They were closer than before; Grissom had his arm loosely draped around Sara's shoulders, as she rubbed awkwardly at her bandaged arm. Matthew smiled; Grissom already knew.

Sara faked a laugh, and Grissom tried to smile. And Matthew started his car.

Let the games begin.

……….

__

He didn't try to wiped the blood off his hands, and he didn't try to set her back upright. Instead, he lingered over her, and watched her as she breathed heavily on the floor. He smiled as she tried to lift a bloody hand to her head to wipe the blood dripping into her eyes from the gash on her forehead.

"I think I've said I don't take rejection well," he whispered, "Want to hear a story?"

He didn't wait for an answer, not that he really expected on.

"I put in an application at the crime lab around the time Holly Gribbs died. I remember seeing you in the lab when I brought in my application. I didn't expect you to recognize me; hell, I barely recognized you. I waited for weeks to get called in for an interview, and you can imagine how much it hurt when I found out you had stuck around. Grissom asked you to stay, start a career in Vegas… stay with him."

He lifted a hand to his forehead and wiped away the small beads of sweat forming there. He shook his head as he looked down at the stilling form below him.

"You always get to thinking it's just about what hasn't happened. Not getting to talk to the world renowned Gil Grissom as a student, not getting a job in his lab. No, this is about pain, what's been taken away. About rejection, Sara, something I thought you'd understand. You took it all away from me! You both did! YOU RUINED ME!"

His voice echoed across the walls. He spit, and kneeled down besides her. He moved a bloody stand of hair from her swollen eyes.

"If I decide to let you go, don't ever think you'll be safe. Don't ever hope to be rid of me. I'll be around every corner and in every nightmare. And the minute you think you're safe, and comfortable and loved, your world will come crashing down. I have control now. I'm the boss. I'm the devil… and life will be hell! You. Will. NEVER. Be. Free. Of. Me."

He walked out, leaving her still form on the floor where she had dropped.

……….

The both stared down at the envelope placed on the door step. Sara's hand took Grissom's. A tear fell down her face as she shook her head.

Grissom pulled out his phone, and quickly punched in a number, "Brass… we need a CSI. We have another envelope."

He turned to look at Sara, and squeezed her hand as she wiped at the tears that fell freely down her cheeks.

"I'll never be free of him," she whispered, and then she really started to cry.

TBC


	13. 13

**Author's note:** I am so sorry for the long hiatus, but after much pushing I finally kicked out Chapter 13! Though, there are a few things I'd like to say about it… one, I personally don't think it's up to my usual… best. I'm still not happy with it after much rewriting, but this made the most sense as far as what the future holds. Two, I am not an expert on drugs, lol! I did do some research and after much debate the drug featured later on in the chapter is the one I decided to use. It has the effects I was looking for and it worked. So, there may be some issues with that, and I apologize, but I was working with what I knew. Three… the action is coming. It starts the next chapter and continues for a few. But that's all I'm gonna say before I give it away! Other than that… here is chapter 13. I really hope you like it!

…………

Catherine stared down at the folder in her lap for what seemed like the hundredth time. She knew what the folder held by heart. Photos of a dead girl that held an all too familiar face, the toxicology results from blood that had been on ice for a year, and small packet of interviews from family members and friends.

And one suspect. Matthew Charbonneau.

He was tall, with dark hair. Very normal. Very forgettable. A plain man with only a speeding ticket on his record. The last person to see the dead girl alive. A man who had been let go.

The fasten seatbelt light went on, and a smooth feminine voice sounded over the loudspeaker, "Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts as we are about to land in beautiful Las Vegas. We hope your flight was a good one, and you enjoy your stay Vegas. Thank you for flying with us!"

Catherine tucked the folder away and fastened her seatbelt. She hoped she wasn't too late.

…………

He was holding her tightly outside the door when Brass and a squad car finally arrived. Sara buried her head in Grissom's shoulder as he pointed to the envelope. Warrick was only a few steps behind Brass as he jogged up the stairs to meet the couple.

"We haven't touched it. Haven't even gone inside. We didn't want to disturb anything."

Warrick set down his kit and silently began to process the envelope, dusting it for prints. His eyes only wandered once to Sara Sidle's shaking form. She was so much thinner than he ever remembered, and her shoulder length hair was pulled back in a messy, crooked ponytail. He looked away with a frown, and reached for a tape lifter. There was one print.

"Why don't the two of you go inside. He may still be around. I'll set some guys outside to keep an eye out while we talk," said Brass, opening the door, motioning to two uniforms to keep watch.

Grissom ushered Sara through the open door. Before he followed, Brass leaned down to whisper to Warrick, "Keep an eye out. If you see anything, holler in at me."

Warrick nodded as he pulled out a swap and started running it over the flap.

When he got inside, Brass found Grissom sitting alone in the living room. He frowned and Grissom shrugged.

"She wanted to go get changed. Said she was cold."

Brass nodded and took a seat across from his old friend. He looked him over. His hair was messy, his skin looking clammy. He watched as Grissom swept a shaky hand over tired eyes. He wasn't looking good, he noted, as Grissom sat back on the couch.

"He knows where I live, Jim. He knows she's here, he probably followed us to the lab. She's not safe. She's not…," but Brass stopped him.

"She is safe, and she's better off with you then if you would have stayed in Denver. Look, we're going to catch this bastard. You don't mess with one of our own and expect to get away with it."

Grissom huffed and closed his eyes, "I can't lose her again."

"And you won't."

Both men looked up when they heard the front door open. Warrick walked in, envelope in one hand, his kit in the other.

"Griss, you wanna open this?"

Warrick handed Grissom the envelope, and he took it tentatively, flipping it in his hands. He looked to Brass, then to Warrick before flipping it open.

"What does it say?" Brass asked.

"The tip of the iceberg. He underlined tip," Grissom mumbled. He opened the envelope wider, squinting his eyes.

Then he smirked.

"Ah, the tip," he said, pulling out a slender piece of metal. The tip of a hypodermic needle.

"I'll run it to the lab, have it tested for blood, and whatever went through it," said Warrick. Grissom dropped the tip back in and handed him the envelope.

"Compare it to anything you find in the other envelope. Chances are this is what he's using to prove the girl from the dumpster and Sara are related."

Warrick nodded and headed out the door. Brass turned to Grissom.

"What kind of game is he playing?" he wondered out loud.

"One he thinks…," but Grissom didn't get to finish.

A scream sounded from the bedroom, followed by a loud crash.

The two men jumped up, Brass drawing his gun and following Grissom down the hallway into the bedroom. Throwing open the door, Grissom ran to Sara, who was kneeling on the floor in front of the window. Brass looked around for any sign of someone else. But there was no one, just the three of them.

"Sara, God, what happened?" breathed Grissom.

"He's … outside. Right outside the window. God, he knows… he knows…," she sobbed.

Brass ran out of the bedroom. From the broken window they could hear him shouting orders to the cops posted outside. The sound of footsteps running down the stairs could barely be heard over Sara's gut wrenching sobs.

"I threw… I tried to nail him… he got away… God, he got away!"

Grissom wrapped his arms around her, bringing a hand to her hair and stroking it gently. His eyes focused on their shattered reflections in the mirror. They weren't safe anymore.

…………

Hodges finished with the first needle tip and the Denver girl's blood sample as Warrick arrived with the envelope.

"I have to say, this is a first for me," he said, looking up.

"What is?" asked Warrick.

"Well, it made sense when I found traces of GHB in the blood sample you gave me. Maybe drinks was how your suspect lured the victim. But when I found traces of GHB in the needle… I thought it was a drug that was slipped into drinks, not injected into people."

"It usually is," mumbled Warrick, looking at the results and shaking his head, "What about Sara's blood results?"

Three sharp beeps went off and Hodges smiled, "Let me see."

He picked the piece of paper up from the printer and grinned, "GHB found in Sara's blood."

Warrick nodded, "Run this needle tip as well, then check both needles for blood samples."

"You're the boss."

Warrick walked into the break room and smiled when he saw Catherine pouring a cup of coffee, "Good to have you back, Cath."

She turned around a gave him a smile, "Aw, miss me?" she looked at the folder in his hands, "What have you got there?"

"Results from needle one, victim one and Sara. All tested positive for traces of GHB."

Catherine sat down next to him and looked at the results, "GHB? The date rape drug? Why would he inject GHB? Why not use something else?"

"Maybe that's all he had left over from the first victim. I'm thinking that he slipped the GHB to the Denver victim, a drink maybe to lure her. Maybe he didn't use it all, and used what he had left over on the girl found in the dumpster and Sara," Warrick paused when his cell phone rang.

Catherine looked over the results. It was dangerous enough to have creeps slipping the dangerous drug into stranger's drinks at bars and clubs, but knowing there was a criminal kidnapping and injecting victims with it sent a shiver down her spine. She looked up when she heard Warrick close his phone.

"What's up?" she asked.

"We have a problem. We need to get to Grissom's."

Catherine frowned, "Well, what's going on?"

"He was there. That bastard was standing right outside the window. They need us to process. We have to catch this guy."

TBC


	14. 14

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay! Here is chapter 14. Hope you enjoy!

--------------------

Sensing Sara needed to get away from the chaos inside the townhouse, Grissom moved her to the secluded back porch. His fingers skimmed her back as he lightly urged her out the sliding door, then shut it softly behind them. The night was quiet, the sounds of the city far in the distance. Sara's cloudy gaze settled on the glittering lights as she pulled her sweater tighter around her shaking shoulders. The Nevada night was warm; Sara was just in shock.

Silence hung thick around them, but Grissom didn't mind. His eyes were skimming the bush lines and the darkened streets below. Sometime during the silence, Sara shifted to look at him.

"He's out there. Not even far away, out there," she followed his gaze to the bushes and shuddered, her voice dropping to a low murmur, "He could be watching right now and we wouldn't even know it."

Grissom's eyes shifted to meet Sara's. He took in a deep breath, "You can't let him get to you, Sara. He may be out there, but he gave himself away. He'll be in custody soon."

Sara shook her head and turned away, "You still don't get it, do you?" Her voice was low. Fingers skimming over the rough wood railing, she lowered her gaze and breathed in slowly. Turning back to Grissom, she frowned, "Don't let him get to me? Newsflash, Grissom, he already has. And he's not going to stop."

Her voice rose against the noise of a passing car, anger growing more apparent with each word, "As long as he's free, we're in danger. He didn't spend the last two years doing nothing, Grissom. He spent every second wondering how he could inflict more pain, spending everyday planning the perfect way to get rid of us both," she paused and took a deep breath, turning to the city on the horizon once more, "Right now he's just toying with us. Tomorrow… tomorrow we could be dead."

Grissom shook his head, "Sara, you can't talk like that."

"No, Grissom, I can talk like that, but only because I spent the last two years fighting to get out of the hell hole he put me in, and only ended up listening to all the ways he could kill us. Now, you can admit that we're in danger and help me do something about it, or you can keep living in your delusional world that this guy is dumb enough to get caught."

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Grissom slowly turned Sara to face him. He brought a hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the tear that had dropped from her eye, "What do you want me to do, because you know that I'll do anything to keep you safe."

Sara put her hand over his and spoke slowly, "Get us out of here. The further away from Las Vegas, the better. If he's running now, he's not watching us. The sooner we leave, the better chance we stand of actually getting away."

Grissom swallowed hard, "Sara, I don't know if you're thinking clearly. We can't just…"

Sara interlaced her fingers with his and pulled his hand down. She studied them carefully, marveling how they looked in the dim moonlight. Her bruised hand stood out against his untouched one. If they were ever going to get away, now would be their chance. Get way, from all the pain. Protect him. She wanted nothing more than his safety.

"I don't want to watch you die, Grissom. I don't want to see you suffer the way I did. I won't let that happen."

"Sara…"

"Gil, please," Sara pleaded.

Grissom flinched when he heard her use his first name. How long had it been since she had said it? He sighed, and gave in.

"I'll tell Brass. We'll leave until they've got him. And they will get him, Sara, I promise."

"I know they will. But until then, this is what's best. Not only for us, but them as well."

Grissom nodded reluctantly, turning them both to the door, "Go get some stuff. We'll leave as soon as I talk to Brass."

They both made their way inside, and left the night to the shadows.

--------------------

The drive to Grissom's was interrupted by the shrill chirp of Catherine's cell phone.

"Willows," she answered curtly.

"Catherine, it's me," she rolled her eyes as Hodges' voice greeted her from the other end, "I have a little more information for you on the GHB found in those blood samples."

"So spill," she replied.

"Well, I went over the results from the needles again, and realized something. It wasn't quite a match to what we found in the blood. The sample from the needles was a household, do-it-yourself brand, if you will, called GBL. It's actually a paint stripper. The GBL metabolized into GHB in your victim and Sara's blood stream, that's what it does, but upon further testing, some traces of the original GBL were found as well. I thought you'd like to know. Maybe you can find someone in Vegas who just happened to purchase paint stripper and hypodermic needles at the same time. If you do, I'd say that's your guy."

"Thanks, Hodges," Catherine said, then flipped her phone close. She was sure that, somewhere, Hodges was extremely offended.

"Well?" Warrick asked as he took a right.

"Homemade GHB. Paint stripper," opening her phone again, Catherine dialed Greg's number, "This guy may have just thrown us a bone."

--------------------

Brass hung up his phone as Sara stepped out of the bedroom, a small bag packed with a few clothes she had found in the same place she had left them two years ago. She shifted awkwardly as both Grissom and Brass turned to face her.

"I've booked you a room at a motel we use sometimes for drug stings. It's not much, but it's a ways outta town, and close enough we can check in on you if need be. Just be careful, and don't hesitate to call me if you need anything," Brass filled Sara in.

She nodded and gave him a small smile as she followed Grissom to the door. They reached it as Catherine and Warrick walked in.

"I'll fill you in," Brass said when he saw the looks on their faces.

Grissom and Sara exited, heading for Grissom's Denali. As they pulled out of the parking lot, they didn't notice the car that pulled out after them.

--------------------

Greg printed out his credit card check on purchases of paint thinner within the greater Las Vegas area within the last 24 hours as Nick skimmed over his check on hypodermic needles. Taking a seat next to him, Greg rubbed a hand over tired eyes.

"Find anything?" he said around a yawn.

"Not yet," said Nick, flipping the page.

"I never would have thought that so many people would actually have a reason for purchasing paint thinner in Vegas," Greg mumbled, skimming over his first page.

"Buildings constantly going up, walls that need to be painted… wife's unhappy with the color their husband chose," Nick cracked a tired smile, but it disappeared quickly, "Whoa, hold on, I may have something."

Nick reached out for the case file sitting in the middle of the table. He flipped it open and quickly passed over the words on the page until he found what he was looking for.

"Mathew Charbonneau," he whispered, then his eyes focused back to the credit card check, "Matthew Charbonneau," he said, louder this time.

Greg flipped through his papers, and when he finally stopped, he grinned, "This guy just keeps getting more and more popular."

"This was just too easy," Nick said with a smile as he stood up, pulling his cell phone out to call Catherine and Warrick with the update.

--------------------

The roads outside Las Vegas were dark and lonely. Above, the stars shone with a ferocity few city dwellers would ever see, and they sat against a shade of black darker than the mind could imagine. Grissom drove quickly down the quiet roads, his eyes shifting between the never-ending pavement, and Sara's still form.

"I never thought the dark would be comforting again, but this is kind of nice," Sara said, turning from the window.

Grissom nodded, and out of habit, checked his rearview mirror. Nothing but darkness.

"Grissom?" Sara whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember… do you remember when I said that it would take awhile for me to trust you again? I just wanted you to know that… I do trust you. And…"

Sara didn't get to finish her sentence, though. She was distracted by the sudden and bright headlights of a car behind them. And it was coming up fast.

"Grissom. Was that car…"

"Oh, God," Grissom pressed the gas down further.

But the car was catching up, and within seconds it's front bumper made contact with their back bumper, sending Grissom and Sara into a jarring throw forward. Sara screamed as Grissom tried to regain control of the Denali, but the other vehicle slammed into it again, sending them sliding hard into the desert off the road. The Denali caught loose gravel, and tipped, skidding across the dusty terrain. Grissom's head hit the steering wheel hard, sending a spurt of blood across the cracked windshield and knocking him out. Sara's head slammed across the passenger window. She screamed out in pain. She tried to reach for her seatbelt, but her body screamed in protest. Blackness started to cloud her vision as her head lolled against the back of her seat. Before it took over, though, she looked out the cracked windshield.

And met the steely and all too familiar gaze of the man she was trying to run from.


	15. 15

-1**Author's note: **Sorry about the delay! The last few chapters are written, it's just a matter of finding time to type and all! I hope you like this… only a few chapters to go… and I'm planning a sequel for afterwards! Enjoy!

…………

"What do you mean they never checked in?" Brass sighed heavily as the attendant on the other end responded, "Well, check again and call me back."

He hung up, and turned to the team sitting at the break room table. Despondent looks graced all their faces. They had put in more hours in the last few days then should have been humanly possible, and it was starting to show.

"Brass, ya gonna fill us in?" Nick asked tiredly.

Brass shrugged, "Grissom and Sara never made it to the motel."

"Maybe they changed their minds and headed back to the townhouse," Warrick said.

"If they did, they're not picking up," said Catherine as she walked in, taking a seat next to Warrick.

"Why'd you call the house?"

"Grissom didn't sound keen on leaving earlier, so I'd thought I'd call and see if they'd left."

The group nodded and looked at the information spread out before them. Papers and receipts all pointing to one man: Matthew Charbonneau. And so far, their only suspect.

"Have we found any connection between this guy and Griss or Sara?" asked Warrick as he started his third cup of coffee.

"Besides the fact that he kidnapped Sara? None," said Nick.

"Now, wait, we don't know for sure that this is our guy," argued Brass, "Pardon me for pulling a Grissom, but let's not jump to conclusions before we have all the evidence."

"Guys, I've got it!" yelled Greg as he ran breathlessly into the room.

Slamming the folder in his hands onto the middle of the table, he grinned. Everyone stared at it as Catherine slowly picked it up. She let a lingering stare fall on the young CSI before she opened it and looked down at its contents. A frown spread across her face as she read it over.

"Greg, who is this?" she asked, jutting a chin at the picture in the folder.

Greg took a seat next to her, "Samuel Maguire, a graduate from Berkley. Was there a little over 11 years ago. Wanna guess who is brother is?"

"Matthew? Greg, the last names not even the same."

"Yeah," said Greg, "because he's a half brother. They didn't find out about each other until Matthew's senior year of high school, according to Matthew's parents, because Matthew had been accepted there and they didn't want him finding out while he was on his own. Which is how I found out about him, by the way. I was doing some checking around to see if he's been seen lately. But keep going, it gets better."

Catherine skimmed over the pages, but stopped when she came across a familiar name, "Grissom worked a case involving him. He was suspected of the kidnapping and murder of a little girl. He nailed him. Sara worked with him," she read on and gasped.

"Yeah. That case was closed four months before Sara was taken," finished Greg when Catherine looked up from the folder.

"Yeah, but why Griss and Sara? Revenge for convicting his brother of doing that to a little girl? He was guilty," said Warrick.

"Wait, Berkeley? Didn't Grissom and Sara meet there? I think he told me that once," mumbled Brass.

"Yeah," breathed Catherine, "A little over 10 years ago."

"Just after Matthew would have gotten there."

Shaking her head, Catherine stood from the table, taking the folder with her. Staring down at it, she searched her memory for something Grissom had said to her on the way to Denver just a few days ago. She bit her lip as she remembered.

"_One thing the kidnapper said to me on the phone was, 'Hell hath no fury like a student scorned.' My guess, this guy was someone I ignored at that lecture… I opted for coffee with Sara afterwards instead."_

"A pupil scorned," she whispered, then focusing on the team again, "He was at the seminar Grissom met Sara at. There was a picture left at the scene from the lecture and he spoke to Grissom before taking Sara. Grissom took Sara out for coffee after that lecture, it's possible this guy didn't take that well. He may have set up his brother to lure CSI's, or maybe he was stalking them. Or maybe, he just got lucky."

"If this is our guy, he may be on a list of people who registered for that seminar. I'll get a hold of Berkeley, see if they don't still have a copy of that list," said Brass.

"Greg, go with him and see if Matthew has checked into any hotels in the Vegas area recently."

"Catherine, that may be hard…"

"I don't care if you have to go to every seedy motel in Vegas by foot, Greg. Just find him."

Greg nodded, "I'm on it."

"Warrick, Nick, you're with me," she said, gathering the things on the table. Everyone stood.

"Where are we goin'?" asked Nick.

"To find Grissom and Sara."

As soon as her sentence was finished, Brass's phone rang. Holding up a finger, he flipped it open, "Yeah, Brass. What? When?" There was a pause in the conversation as he listened, "Yeah, I'll… we'll be right out."

Slowly, he closed his phone and slid back into his chair. Everyone stood before him, waiting for an explanation.

"Well?" pushed Catherine after a few tense seconds.

"That was dispatch. An anonymous caller reported an accident about 30 minutes ago. They sent some uniforms to check it out, and they sent back a plate number. It came back Gil Grissom."

"Oh my God."

"Is everyone alright?"

Brass sighed and shifted in his seat, "That's the problem. That's why they sent a plate number. No one was in the vehicle. If they weren't in the car and never showed up at the safe spot, where the hell are they? It's like they vanished."

"Or were taken," said Catherine, rushing out the door.

…………

He heard her laugh somewhere outside the darkness of his eyes.

"_What are you thinking?" she asked quietly._

_Grissom ran a hand through Sara's hair, and sighed, "You."_

_Sara laughed, "Me?"_

And if he tried hard enough, he could feel the soft press of her lips against his.

_Sara turned around in his arms and planted a kiss on his lips, softly caressing his cheek as she pulled away._

"_This may sound kind of selfish… but I wish you weren't going to Denver," he said._

When he strained his ears, he could hear her voice echoing in his head.

"_I love you, Griss."_

"…_Show me how much you'll miss me…"_

"…_don't let me go…"_

"…_I do trust you…"_

"… _love you…"_

His head hurt. And when he tried to open his eyes he was met only by inky black. He tried to reach for his sore head, but his arms wouldn't move. As a matter of fact, his whole body felt tied down. Heavy.

Restrained.

His eyes shot open again, but the black was replaced with murky white light, which came from the small lamp that was being shoved in his face. He tried to blink it away, but it moved, shifted to reveal a tense face. Greasy strands of hair hung over the man's eyes, and he flashed a toothy grin as Grissom tried to sit up. Grissom's eyes tried to focus, but the room spun around him. He managed to make out a strap pulled snuggly against his torso as a clammy hand came to rest against his injured head.

"Head wound is looking better. At least it stopped bleeding," the man said, his voice holding a whisper of familiarity, "Of course, I'm not a doctor, so I could be wrong."

Grissom looked away from the man's steely gaze, trying to search the shadows. He had been with Sara, hadn't he? They had been driving. Where had they been going? The man huffed, and leaned closer.

"Still looking for her. Here I am, standing right in front of you. I mean, you can't even move, for God's sake, yet you keep looking for her! Notice me, damn it!"

Grissom slowly turned to face the man leaning over him. His eyes and that voice, they were vaguely familiar. But he was sure he didn't know his name, and that scared him the most. Unless, of course, this was the man his team had as a suspect. The man who's name Sara only whispered once since being returned. Matthew? Was that his name? It had to be. Sara had warned him about this man, and Grissom's foggy brain was starting to clear. Slowly, he took in a breath and nodded his head.

"I notice you… Matthew," he licked dry lips, "but it would be easier if you moved that light back a little and let me sit up."

Matthew laughed, a deep, cynical laugh. He wiggled his finger at Grissom and stepped back, "The light I can do, but I know better than to release you."

Grissom sighed and let his head fall back onto whatever it was he was lying on. He fought the urge to look around once more. The darkness behind Matthew would have kept him from seeing much anyway, but the nagging feeling that Sara was passed out in the shadows made him uneasy. Judging from his own headache, whatever had happened to them had been violent.

The black emitted a moan, and Grissom snapped his head to the left, sending a spike of pain through his head and down his spine. As Matthew pushed his way around the table and into the darkness, images of the ground crashing towards Grissom, bright lights in the rearview mirror, Sara's screams over the crunch of metal on metal, his own rough yell before the world went dark, they all came back to him. He gasped for air as he fought back the images, and then the room went bright. Matthew had run them off the road. Followed them from Vegas. They had been trying to hide, trying to run away. And he had stopped them.

Matthew had turned the room lights on to reveal a damp basement. Dusty corners, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. And Sara, lying on her side on the ground not far from him. Grissom squinted to adjust to the intensity of the light. His neck was cramping, but he kept it facing Sara. She struggled to sit up as she lifted her head, rapidly blinking eyes meeting Grissom's only for a heartbeat, before turning away. In any other situation she probably would have added, "I told you so."

Not this time, though. The heavy sound of Matthew walking across the room reminded Grissom of where they were and he quickly looked away from Sara's shaking form.

"Let's play a game," Matthew smiled, licking his lips as he kneeled next to Sara, running a hand down her spine.

Grissom wondered if they'd ever be free.


	16. 16

**Author's note:** Alright, we're down to the final three chapters! They all should be posted by the end of next week, seeing as how I'll have plenty of inspiration… from VEGAS! Until then, enjoy chapter 16!

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It was like walking into a nightmare. The reds and blues from the lone cop car's lights flashed in slow motion as Catherine, Warrick and Nick walked up to the scene. It wasn't like they hadn't processed scenes in which they were somewhat personally involved before, but this; this was different.

Grissom's Denali was flipped onto it's side, a deep dent decorating its rear bumper. Catherine stepped closer to inspect it, collecting a sample of the blue paint chips that were sprinkled within the dent. She shook her head as she mumbled to herself. "Ran off the road."

"Hey, Cath!" Warrick shouted from the road. He leaned down and snapped a picture as she approached him.

"What you find?"

"Skid marks, almost overlapping these skid marks. I'm not a betting man anymore, but I'd bet these belong to Grissom's," he pointed at a dark pair of marks that bruised the road, "and these belong to whoever ran them off the road."

"No doubt. That dent in the rear of the vehicle? Blue paint chips within. Definitely not the Denali's color."

"I've got a shoe print!" Nick yelled. He snapped a few pictures before he leaned down to his kit, getting out everything he need to make a cast of the shoe print, "Guys not being as careful as he was before. He's getting sloppy."

Catherine sighed as made her way back over to the flipped Denali. She searched the area, going over every inch with a watchful eye, but she found nothing else. She shook her head as she turned to watch Nick and Warrick. They looked up at her, meeting her tired and worried eyes.

"I know they're going to be ok, but sometimes I can't help but think that this guy, even despite his screw ups, is just good enough to get away."

"Cath…"

She shook her head, "But then I remember that we're the number two lab in the country, and we didn't get there standing around letting the evidence come to us. We dig in, we find it for the victims. Yeah, it's a little different this time; the victims are two of us. But, you guys… I guess I'm just trying to say, thanks. Not just for your great work, but I'm sure Griss and Sara would love knowing they've got people who care enough to look for them."

Warrick walked over and set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Putting her hand on top of his, she smiled and nodded tightly. They couldn't give up hope; not now. They were too close to getting this guy. But the more time they wasted, the less time Grissom and Sara had.

And running out of time was not an option.

--------------------

"Matthew Charbonneau paid $45 to attend Dr. Grissom's three day seminar, "Anatomy of a Crime Scene." Gee, thought he'd be more original with that one," Brass grinned as he came into the conference room. The rest of night shift nodded as they studied the work in front of them.

"Don't everyone greet me at once," Brass mumbled, taking a seat next to Nick.

"You're the only one who got anything," said Greg, staring into his cup of coffee.

"Well, we did find a few things at the site of the accident. Blue paint chips on the back of Grissom's vehicle. A shallow shoe print near the front bumper of the car. Some tread marks on the pavement that aren't a match to Grissom's tires. No prints, though. Not even a partial," briefed Warrick.

"This guys a ghost. Greg check his credit card again, but didn't find any sign of a hotel or motel. Went to some of the more low key places, but didn't find anyone who said they checked in someone matching Matthew's description. We've hit a dead end," Catherine sighed.

"Well, maybe not," said Nick, "What about this half brother of his? Greg called the rest of the family to see if Matthew's made contact with them. It's entirely possible that the brother has talked to him, especially if this is part of some elaborate revenge plot against Griss and Sara. He could of let his brother in on it."

Catherine nodded and stood slowly, "Alright. Brass, do you think we can get in to see this half brother?"

Brass nodded tightly as he pulled out his cell phone and excused himself to make a phone call. Catherine pointed to Warrick and nodded toward the door, "You can come with us. The rest of you, keep checking hotels and motels. The seedier, the more likely you are to find him. We'll check in when we know something."

And with that, she and Warrick walked out the door, hoping to find something with this convicted murderer and kidnapper.

--------------------

"I haven't talked to him for awhile," shrugged Samuel, clinking his cuffed wrists loudly on the metal table, "Last time I saw him was about a year ago, wanted to know about the house they think I killed that girl in."

Samuel was a short man, covered in tattoos and scars. He sat slumped in his chair, running a shaking hand through his greasy hair. Beneath the table a nervous foot tapped against the floor, rattling the chains around his ankles. When he saw Brass raise an eyebrow, he sat forward, giving him a slight shrug.

"They _think_?" Brass needed clarification. It wasn't just that anyone thought it; this man had been convicted of it, the evidence had proved it.

"Yeah, they _think_. I didn't do anything. Especially not to that little girl. I was framed."

"That isn't why we're here, Mr. Maguire. Why did Matthew come to see you?" pushed Catherine.

"Like I said, he was asking about the house. I owned it, and the property it was on. Still did at that point, but he wanted to buy it from me. Nobody believes I'm innocent, never will, so I didn't see a point in keeping it around anymore. I gave it to him, free of charge. He was ecstatic. Said he had a lot of big plans for it and left. I haven't seen him since."

Catherine and Brass stood to leave, but Warrick stayed seated, leaning forward in his seat to stare into the slouching man's eyes. Getting his attention, he spoke softly, "Why are you so certain you've been framed?"

The man sat straight in his chair, his eyes suddenly brighter, his pale face now full of color, "I hadn't used that house in awhile. Matthew had actually been using it. I had hired him to fix and paint it up, told him he could stay there too, once he got it livable again. I'd check in on him every once in awhile, but hadn't been there in three weeks. Next thing I know, the police are knocking at my door, throwing cuffs on me and reading me my rights."

"Matthew had been staying there?" asked Catherine.

"Well, I don't know if he was staying there at that specific time. It still wasn't quite up to code. But he never mentioned a hotel where he could be reached, and he only worked on it at night, 'cause he had other painting jobs during the day."

"Did he ever get around to finishing the house?" asked Brass.

"Not before I was arrested. When he asked for it, I figured that's what his big plans for it were. He needed a place to stay at the time. He was thinking of moving to the Vegas area, said Denver was getting to old and he needed to make some changes. Said he had a girl named Sara who was from Las Vegas and really wanted to come back. Who was I to argue? Once he got that place done, it woulda been a beautiful home. If you can get past that poor girl being found there," Samuel sniffed and lowered his eyes, missing the looks that Catherine Brass and Warrick exchanged.

"Thank you for your time, sir," said Warrick, joining Catherine and Brass at the door. Before they could leave, Samuel called them back.

"Did Matthew do something wrong? I mean, he's a good guy and all, but he hasn't really been the same since school, ya know?"

"He may have, Sam, but we're trying really hard to make sure he doesn't do anything else," said Brass, opening the door and ushering the CSIs out before anything more could be said.

Once outside, Catherine pulled the men aside, "A girl named Sara? From Vegas? What was the address of that house?"

"I don't know it off the top of my head, but we can pull it," said Brass, dialing a number on his phone and stepping away.

"So, what? We're thinking Samuel was framed?" Warrick asked quietly as Catherine paced, "It's not like he knew Grissom and Sara would work that case."

"No, but it could just be a lucky coincidence. Maybe he was just going for anyone on Grissom's team. Maybe he requested them and that was never documented. I don't know, but either way, that house is worth looking into," Catherine stopped and leaned against the wall, "I can't believe we didn't think to check sooner."

"Anyone could have made…"

"No, Warrick," Catherine lowered her gaze, "The house where they found Sara was almost an exact match to the house described in the case report for Samuel's case. We thought it was just a reference to Grissom and Sara getting together… but how would that make sense? It was a reference to the original crime. How could anyone have known those details unless they had been there?"

Warrick nodded, but didn't respond. His eyes were settled on Brass, who was making his way back towards them.

"I have the address," he said breathlessly," We'll meet a team there. Let's roll."

With that, they started towards the door, hoping this lead was taking them closer to the end.

--------------------

"Let's play a game," Sara squeezed her eyes shut as Matthew's fingers ran down her spine, stopping just short of the hem of her shirt. She opened her eyes just enough to look to Grissom, hoping to see a plan formulating in his bright blue eyes. But when she looked there, she didn't find any hope; she found terror.

Gritting her teeth against Matthew's touch, she turned to meet his steely gaze and cringed when she saw the sickly sweet smile that touched his face, "Lets. But first, let him go. Grissom doesn't need to be here for this."

At that, Matthew laughed, "What, do you not remember a thing I told you in the last two years? Grissom does need to be here, because this is all about revenge."

He gently patted Sara's back, before moving his hands to his own shirt. Slowly he removed it, not taking his eyes off of Grissom, "You took away an opportunity to learn from me. And you never noticed me. You said you'd answer any questions, and I had so many. I was going to be your star pupil and denied me that," Matthew leaned over Sara, running a rough hand underneath her shirt, "You took so much from me, and all I could do is sit back and watch…"

"Don't touch her!" Grissom cut him off, straining against his restraints.

"Now I'm going to take her," Matthew continued, ignoring the struggle behind him, "Take everything you want while you watch."

Making his move, he flipped Sara onto her back, pinning her to the cold ground as he ground into her hip. Sara screamed, bucking against him in an attempt to throw him off. But her muscles were weak, and his held her down as he smiled from above. Tears running down her face, Sara yelled, "Why? God, why change it all now?"

"Grissom will never be able to live with himself if this happens," turning to the man struggling behind him, he smiled, "Will you, doctor? Which is fine by me, because we'll all be dead when this is over with. So he won't suffer for long," leaning down, he whispered into Sara's ear, "And neither will you. It'll all be over soon. But let's have some fun before we go."

Grissom cried out as Matthew lunged forward, hot tears rolling down his cheeks as the straps around his body cut into his skin. In his head, he screamed for help, not knowing just how close it was.


	17. 17

-1**Author's note:** Ok, so, I know the last chapter was a bit of a different format… but that was so I could get it back on track! Look how nicely Vegas and I are getting along! I know it's a short chapter, but that's because the next one wraps up EVERYTHING! One more chapter after this! Anyway, please enjoy chapter 17!

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The house looked dead. And that was saying something for it being in a neighborhood that had cops making regular trips to it. As a matter of fact, as Brass and a few squad cars pulled up to the dark house, a shot could be heard not far in the distance, followed by the cry of sirens. Brass shook his head, and turned back to the building in front of him. Right now, he had to focus. This could be the end.

He prayed that it would be.

The soft crackle of his radio alerted him, and he reached for it, whispering a copy. It was Nick on the other side, "We're good to go. If you find anything…"

He trailed off. Brass could tell the CSI was thinking the worst and he wasn't going to let that dissipate his hope of finding his friends alive, "When we find Grissom and Sara and get them outta here… I'll let you know."

Turning off his radio, Brass moved to the front of his car. He signaled for a few men to follow him, then made his way to the front of the house. He undid his holster and laid a sweaty palm on the grip of his gun.

It wasn't until he heard the scream that he drew it out.

--------------------

Grissom felt his heart shattering. Not for himself, having to watch the sight before him, but for Sara, as dirty hands ran under her shirt, as Matthew's thick frame hovered over her body.

Sara squeezed her eyes shut, and pretended to be somewhere else. She threw kicks and tried to break free of his grasp as she sipped tea at home. She tried to pretend that what Matthew wanted to do wasn't about to happen as she fought to get free.

Matthew laughed manically as he held his victim down, and came closer to ecstasy as his other victim yelled frantically behind him. He concentrated on what he was doing. So much so that he didn't hear the door upstairs being kicked in. He couldn't feel the shift in the air. He couldn't smell death closing in.

He didn't know anything had changed until the screaming stopped.

--------------------

"LVPD! We have a warrant!" Brass shouted as he pushed into the house, gun drawn. He motioned the men behind him further into the house, pointing out the kitchen just down the hall and the stairs that lead up just to the right. We walked further in, pulling open a closet door, clearing the only hiding space in the narrow hallway.

He reached for the next handle. He twisted, and pulled it towards him. The door didn't budge. He tried again, this time steadying his gun at the door. A few of the men returned, watching as he tugged at the door. He took a deep breath held up his fingers. Time seemed to slow as he counted down…

Five.

Matthew stared down at Sara when he heard the footsteps shifting at the basement door. His mischievous grin turned into a tight frown. Clammy hands moved from under her shirt, and moved slowly to her neck and his back pocket.

Four.

His grip tightened around the healing flesh around her neck and the cool barrel of a gun pressed forcefully against her temple. His ears were deaf to the sound of Grissom yelling. His eyes and brain were focused on the frightened face underneath him.

Three.

How is it that after all these years, he could stare at this face underneath him and feel anger only for her? Hadn't this started out as something different? Hadn't he said just moments ago that this was about revenge? But now, staring at the shaking figure underneath him, her couldn't help but feel rage beyond anything he had known in the two years that had gone by.

Two.

Matthew pressed the gun harder against her temple. "This is… all… your fault," he seethed. He didn't hear the door being kicked in behind him. He didn't hear the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs. He didn't hear Brass's command to drop his weapon and step away from Sara.

One.

He didn't hear the sound of the gun firing. And he didn't feel the bullet ripping through his flesh. He didn't see the blood pool around his chest.

Or the gun drop from his hand as darkness overtook him and his final breath left his body.


	18. 18

-1**Author's note: ** Well guys, this is it! The final chapter of "Threads of Time." I just want to say a HUGE thank you to all of you who stuck with this, even when it was really lame, or I was taking a long time to update! Without you all, this wouldn't even be going still! So, THANK YOU! Stay tuned for the sequel, "Let it Pour." It should be up in like… two weeks, tops! Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and again, THANK YOU!

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It wasn't raining when it was over and the moon didn't shine. There was just the blackness of night, and the silence of death.

And no one mourned.

His body was wheeled away slowly, the blood seeping through the white cotton sheet a testament to the end. The end of a long battle. The end of the evening. The end of a life, no matter how much everyone wanted to see him go. The paramedics kept their heads up, unwilling to look at the body they carried away. A few stray cops still lingered around the scene. The CSIs stood around the doorway as Grissom was wheeled out. Sara walked slowly behind his stretcher.

It wasn't until a few hours later, in the safety of the hospital that Sara finally spoke, "It's over."

Grissom wanted to nod, to say something to make that statement true, but all he could do was swallow back his tears and squeeze her hand weakly. Sara squeezed her eyes shut and took in a deep breath. He didn't need to say a word; she knew exactly what he was trying to say. The only person it was over for was Matthew, and that was only because his body lay in a cold drawer in the morgue.

"It's… getting easier," answered Grissom's raspy voice. Sara just nodded and looked away.

--------------------

"He kept journals," said Catherine, laying a book in an evidence bag on the layout room table, "Mostly just ranting, but occasionally he details what he did, what he planned on doing. In his earliest journal he talks about framing his brother-in-law and details the kidnapping."

"What do you think will happen to Samuel?" asked Greg.

"He'll most likely file for release. We have evidence that he is, in fact, innocent," said Brass, motioning towards the journal.

"How are Griss and Sara?" Nick asked, joining the team at the table.

"Grissom is being kept over night for observation. Sara's been released, but she refuses to leave his side. Probably for the best, I'm not convinced she's fit for release," mumbled Warrick.

The team nodded in agreement. Catherine yawned and stood straight, stretching her tired muscles. She looked the group over and shrugged, "Not really much we can do anymore. Go home, guys, and get some sleep. I'll see ya tomorrow."

Nobody argued. A few minutes later, night shift filed out of the lab, trying hard to forget the horrors of the last few, and desperately wishing for everything to settle back to something close to normal.

--------------------

She was in his arms by the time the sun peaked through the window. It felt good to be here again, even if the first time in two years was in a hospital. But as soon as the good feeling had come, it went. Fear gripped her heart, and beads of sweat gathered at her brow. Her eyes frantically searched the dim room, picking out the shadows in the corner. She swore she saw eyes staring back.

"Sara? Sara, honey, your having a nightmare. Sara!" Grissom's big hands gently shook her shoulder, and she woke with a start. She wasn't in his arms, but still in the chair next to his hospital bed. She quickly swiped at the tears that had fallen free.

"I'm ok. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

Grissom shook his head and motioned for her to stand. She did, and took the hand he offered to her. Grissom pulled her down next to him, taking in the clean scent of her as she scrambled to be closer.

"No more apologizing. There is nothing to be sorry for. Not waking me up… not anything that happened. If you let it get to you… he'll win. And I'd like to think that we came out on top in this one."

He pressed a kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger on the smooth skin. That did her in. Before she could stop it, the tears were flowing freely. Sobs wracked her body, shaking them both as Grissom wrapped his arms around her. He caught her as she fell, whispering softly into her ear as she let it all out.

"It's over, honey. God, I swear to you. It's over."

--------------------

"So, maybe… counseling wouldn't be such a bad idea. For both of us. Together, separate… however works best. Just to get back on track… start the healing process." It was hard for Grissom to even fathom the thought of talking to a stranger about the past few years, but he was smart enough to know that the brief mention of what had happened to Sara every week wasn't enough to help the wounds heal.

"I think we're healing just fine," Sara said, keeping her eyes focused on the dishes she was washing. Grissom bit his bottom lip and pressed on.

"I know the thought of talking to someone you don't know is uncomfortable, but…"

"No, Grissom. It's not that," Sara spun around to face him, "It's…" but the harsh look on her face faded and she lowered her head.

Grissom stepped forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, "You don't want to admit there's anything to heal from."

Sara nodded and Grissom pulled her to him. He placed a whisper of a kiss in her hair and closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent of her. It wasn't the first time he had held her since her return, but it was the first time it felt right again. It was also the first time he felt they could actually get through the pain and hurt.

"We have each other," he whispered, "We can do this together."

"It's not going to be easy," mumbled Sara against his shoulder.

"No one expects it to be."

"And I hate telling my problems to strangers."

Grissom chuckled, "Me too."

Sara pulled back to look at Grissom. He gave her a small smile for reassurance, "I trust you on this," she said quietly.

"Thank you."

Taking a deep breath, Sara nodded, "Let's do it, then."

Grissom smiled, "Alright."

It wasn't going to be easy, but at least it wasn't about pain and revenge. Now, it was about discovery and healing…

And love.

The End.


End file.
